by C B Williams
“No apologies needed,” Yanagi replied. “I was told I would be a surprise. I am your stylist, dear. And it looks like we’ll be in this room?” she gestured toward the bedroom where Max had disappeared.
“That is correct,” Max’s voice answered from inside the room. “My wedding gift to you, my dear Mouse, your own personal stylist on the first day of our honeymoon.” He came out wearing a sympathetic and doting expression. “My darling bride did not take the passage overwell, and I planned this to cheer her up.” He stepped behind Mouse and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.
She felt her face heating, but allowed his embrace, and tucked away the unsettling feelings until she had time to analyze them.
Yanagi turned to Mouse, “My poor child. Space Sickness is the worst. I refuse to leave this planet for fear I would be susceptible.”
“Pity,” Max said. “Spur could use you. If you ever change your mind and wish to expand, all you need do is contact me through the marvelous Ingot.”
Yanagi’s laugh was as well-modulated as her voice. “You are too kind. Perhaps I shall.”
“Good. I will be happy to help. I wish to bring more commerce back to Spur. Now events have settled down, you will find Spur quite an extraordinary place to visit.” He unwound his arms and moved his hand up to Mouse’s shoulders. “In fact, during our stay, I am appointing myself and my bride as honorary ambassadors of Spur’s economy. Now, I should leave you two alone and get back to my business at hand.” He kissed Mouse’s cheek. “Enjoy yourself, my dear.” He went back to his desk without a backward glance.
Her head spinning and her face burning, Mouse put as much pleasure into her smile as she could muster. It wasn’t much. She knew Max had deliberately unbalanced her, and that he knew he’d succeeded. And knowing Max, he would be having a nice chuckle as soon as she and Yanagi were in the bedroom.
Yanagi must have sensed her roiling emotions. “Come,” she said kindly, and led Mouse into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. “I take it this is a somewhat overwhelming bridal gift?”
The brief walk and a couple of deep breaths gave Mouse time to center herself. “I guess I didn’t realize my clothes weren’t good enough,” she said. Then frowned. Just exactly how she was going to conceal her knives if she was expected to try on clothes?
Yanagi began opening the parcels, arranging the garments artfully on the bed according to their purpose. “Some women do not dress to complement or enhance their special beauty. Rather, they dress for their profession,” she paused with her arrangements and nodded at Mouse’s assassin’s greys. “You, I believe, are one such woman.”
Mouse nodded. “Grey...blends.” She shrugged. “And truthfully, I’ve never been in a position where I had enough to spend on clothing-for-clothing’s-sake.”
“Then this will be a marvelous day for you, because your husband is a very generous man.” She lifted up a long brocade vest which, when worn, would hit mid-calf. “And he’s very thorough.” She parted the front and flipped it open, exposing a satin lining with dozens of small pockets. “He told me your profession, and specified that everything I show you today must accommodate your,” she paused, “profession’s necessities. I just can’t bring myself to talk about weapons.” She scrunched up her tapered nose.
Some of Mouse’s tension fled and she felt the knots in her shoulders let go. “I was worrying about how to hide my...uh...‘profession’s necessities’ while I try these on.”
“And now you don’t need to hide them.” She held up a dainty blouse and wide, flowing trousers which went underneath the brocade vest. “Ready to begin?”
Mouse reached for the ensemble, feeling a quickening in her stomach and hesitated. “Will they fit?”
Yanagi chuckled. “Now you’re just stalling. Not only will they fit, each piece will complement you exquisitely, I promise. I’ve been given your measurements and I’ve also seen images. I am a professional, after all.” Yanagi’s smile softened her words.
Two hours later, Mouse stood in front of the mirror wearing a soft, filmy, yet tough fabric that didn’t restrict her movement and concealed nearly all the knives she normally carried. But what pleased her most was how flattering the peach color was to her skin and hair. For the first time, she thought the woman staring back at her was pretty. She smiled at herself and turned toward Yanagi. “This is perfect. I like this one the best. Thank you.”
Yanagi smiled in return. “I believe I do as well. But the brocade ensemble is a close second.” She gestured to the garments once more folded neatly on the bed. “But all these look stunning on you. Truly. Take you out of grey, and you prove to be a very striking woman.”
For the second time that day, Mouse felt her face heat, and she lowered her eyes. “I don’t always wear grey, but what I’ve picked out has never looked so wonderful. So, thank you again. It must have been hard work planning and putting all these clothes together.”
“It’s been a pleasure. And may you never wear grey again.”
“I hope I don’t ever need to wear it again. I plan to retire from my profession.”
Yanagi nodded kindly. “I would think it would be wearing after a while.” She brightened. “And now I shall see myself out. I left you a gift of a few little face and eye color pots there, on your dresser. Why don’t you play with them before you present yourself to your husband?”
The woman had tact, Mouse mused while she saw her to the bedroom door. And she had helped Mouse feel beautiful.
While she applied the makeup, the word husband reverberated in her mind. The farce was already making her squirm, and this was only the first day. She didn’t like playing at marriage. She didn’t like playing at anything. But it was duty. Hopefully she wouldn’t give herself away.
What she did like was seeing Max at a loss for words when she at last opened the door wearing her peach clothes. She considered it payback for the way he embarrassed her earlier when he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her cheek.
For several moments, Max was quiet, his eyes roaming her body before finally resting on her face. He cleared his throat. “Yanagi was correct,” he said hoarsely. “Grey does not become you.”
Chapter 13
Eaton Currington felt only frustration and anger when he knew he should be rejoicing. Hadn’t his months of painstaking planning to eradicate his competition come to fruition? Was he not at the top of his game and fast becoming the governing ruler of not only Talamh, but of Spur?
Then why didn’t he feel like celebrating?
Because of the two soldiers marching briskly through the door and along the considerable length of the room to where he sat in his receiving chair on its raised dais.
Normally he enjoyed the procession, enjoyed watching those he’d summoned travel the long stretch of carpet to where he sat waiting. Especially the traders. It gave him time to analyze their body language, assess their probable motivations. It made him feel downright powerful when they stood looking up at him where he sat, looking down on them. He had other more suitable meeting rooms for conducting business, but he preferred this one, with its high ceilings and imposing lighting. And, of course, the dais.
The pair arrived at the base of his dais, dressed in their navy martials’ unis with red and yellow trim. He decided he preferred the colors of the old regime. Even if Spur had done away with them, it didn’t mean he had to. He had once considered designing his own uni, but after the Spur phenomenon, people were jumpy and nervous of even the slightest change. Besides, he was a traditionalist, a Colonizer through and through, so why not keep the navy for the martials and the dark green for the colonizers? After all, he was preparing to resurrect the Ring.
One of the soldiers coughed politely, and Eaton raised an eyebrow at the man, causing him to redden slightly. And then he frowned, remembering their presence was the reason he did not feel like celebrating his good fortune.
Not being a religious man, nor one who believed in happenstance, it did, however, se
em strikingly serendipitous when, four weeks ago, out of nowhere, a huge colonizing vessel appeared requesting clearance for docking. And it was the very same morning he’d been plotting how to resurrect the Ring Ship Assemblies orbiting Spur.
But to be given the opportunity to confiscate a pre-assembled colonizer instead? It seemed just too good to be true.
And perhaps it was.
To date, the group from the colonizer, who had shuttled down to the planet for negotiations, were tight-lipped and uncooperative. And one of them had mysteriously vanished. When Eaton urged more extreme measures, his inquisitors refused, citing glowing eyes and something absurd like fire-throwing. Of course it was preposterous, and he had suggested to the inquisitors that perhaps the captives somehow slipped them a hallucinogenic. The inquisitors had not argued with him.
Since the inquisitors were of no use, Eaton decided to put his captives on strict rations and wait them out. He had the time. No doubt in a month or two they would be more than willing to tell him a little about who they were and where they came from.
In the meantime, he sent a unit up to Dock 4 to investigate the ship itself. If cleared, he could send his scientists and mechanics to go over the ship and find out everything possible. Perhaps even create his own Ring Ship Assembly to orbit Talamh and replicate the vessel.
And now these two martials from the investigative unit were ready to report. From their expressions, he did not expect good news.
Eaton braced himself for more frustration before he spoke. “I will have my report now. What did you find on the ship?”
“We couldn’t get in,” said one of the martials, the one who had coughed.
“You couldn’t get in,” Eaton repeated, reining in his sudden flare of temper. He could feel a headache building and massaged his temples. “Why? Why couldn’t you get in?”
“There was a sniffer guarding the door.”
“There was a sniffer,” he repeated, deliberately lacing his words with sarcasm. “And why didn’t you simply dispatch the sniffer?” It was nearly painful getting information from these two. He took a deep breath.
“Because there is some sort of force field surrounding the entire ship.”
Eaton couldn’t help groaning. “Am I surrounded by idiots? Don’t all docks have shield destabilizers?” His head began to throb. “Shut down their shield, kill the sniffer, and report back to me. Now go.”
“It’s not a shield, sir. It’s a force field. We already tried the shield destabilizer and nothing happened.”
Eaton dropped his hands and stared at them. “I’ve never heard of anything like this. Ever,” he finally said.
The martial shrugged. “Neither have we, sir.”
“Have the science team investigate,” Eaton commanded. “Go tell them.” They remained staring up at him. “Now. This instant. Go!”
As they moved to leave, his secretary entered the room, a small and insignificant man in Eaton’s opinion, but very good at his job. “Sir, you have guests.”
“What now? Guests? Are they scheduled?” He rubbed at his temples again.
“No, sir, but the man insists you will want to see him. It has something to do with Frasier on Spur.”
Currington straightened. “Martials!” he called to the uniformed pair.
They immediately halted their procession toward the entrance and turned to wait.
“You,” he said to his secretary, “go fetch the guests.”
The little man hastened to obey.
“And you two, stay,” he said to the martials. “I don’t particularly relish unscheduled guests.
“Then you definitely won’t relish this one,” Max said from the entryway. “Been a long time, Currington.
Max didn’t even try to stifle his grin while he watched Eaton’s mouth open and close like a fish. His round face, atop his rounded body, changed from a sickly pallor to a dark, purplish red.
Max squinted up at his nemesis while he and Mouse narrowed the distance. Is that a vein throbbing at his temple? Yes, it is! He felt his smile broaden. “Take a breath, Currington, your face is a most unbecoming shade of puce,” he stated when he and Mouse came to a halt at the base of the dais.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Currington sputtered.
“I am honeymooning, and since we’re here on Talamh, I thought, ‘why not pay my respects to my old friend and colleague, Eaton Currington?’ And so here we are.” He bowed slightly. “May I have the honor of introducing my lovely bride to you? Mouse, this is Eaton Currington, the man you’ve been hearing so much about lately. Eaton, this is Mouse, my brand new wife. We are blissfully happy and enjoying this fine planet. Now tell me, how are you?” On the question, he deliberately allowed a little of his anger to come though.
“I-I heard you were dead.”
“And you must have been misinformed, because I’ve never felt healthier in my life.” He tapped his lip. “When was it that we last spoke?” He snapped a finger. “That’s right! It was a few days after Spur returned me to my youth. I contacted you to inform you of the change in our governmental standing, and described my concerns regarding the continuation of trade between the now independently governing planets. I feel a slight misunderstanding must have occurred regarding that situation.”
Max paused and observed Eaton’s color returning. “You are aware Spur named me to preside over The City, and all commerce goes through me, are you not? And were something to happen to me,” he paused again to tap his lip, “an early demise, for example, it would also be Spur who would select my replacement. Now I’m not normally a gambling man, but I would bet all I own that Spur would not select you, my friend.”
“I’ll take that bet!” Currington roared, shooting to his feet and gesturing to the martials behind the couple. “Kill him. Kill them both.”
“Mouse?” Max asked calmly, gaze fixed calmly on his nemesis.
While Max was explaining, Mouse heard the snick of a weapon being released from its holster, and was ready. In a blur, her knives were out and speeding toward their targets.
With four small plops, four thumbs bounced onto the floor.
The martials cried out, dropped their weapons, and scrambled after their thumbs.
“Oh. Oh dear. Your beautiful floor.” Max turned toward Mouse. “I think we should take our leave, don’t you, my dear?” he asked as he offered her his arm. “I bid you a good afternoon, Eaton. I apologize for the accident.”
“This isn’t over,” Currington shouted after them.
Max paused and glanced behind him, meeting Currington’s angry gaze with one of his own. “I agree,” Max said softly. “This is far from over, I promise you.”
As they descended the stairs of the Governing and Commerce building of Talamh, the pair were jostled by the two martials rushing past, cradling their thumbs.
“Messy defense, Mouse,” Max said.
“But nobody died,” she replied.
“No, nobody died.”
They exited the building and found Manabu waiting in the small city shuttle Max had leased. “I think it would be prudent to take a circuitous route back to our rooms,” Max told him as he helped Mouse through the opening.
Manabu grinned. “With pleasure. I do enjoy getting to know a city by taking a flight all around it.”
They settled in and the shuttle skimmed away from its mooring.
After a while Mouse looked over at Max. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you.”
It wasn’t a question.
He looked over at her.
He must have been wearing what she’d termed his predatory expression, because she leaned a little away from him.
“Immensely, Mouse. Immensely. Although there is something rather disconcerting about all this.”
“What’s that?”
“I did not realize how powerful my nemesis has become. I have the distinct impression that while I’ve been focusing on Spur’s restoration, our Mr. Currington has been quietly becoming the head of this planet’s
government.”
Chapter 14
“I’m going to see if I can locate Flick,” Mouse announced once they were back in their rooms. She glanced at Max. “And I’m going to need four new knives. Do you know where I can get them?”
He looked at her, as if trying to assess her feelings, but said nothing, so she explained.
“I’m worried about Wren and the rest. Manabu was not able to locate The Valiant. They should be here by now. And I should have thought about contacting Flick a long time ago, but it’s only just occurred to me a few days ago.”
“Space Sickness will do that to you,” Manabu said from the entryway. He walked into their living space. “Shuttle’s parked close. I couldn’t help overhearing you, Mouse. I may not have located The Valiant, but I have located a colonizer docked at Four. Came in about four weeks ago.”
Mouse’s heart fluttered. “That must be their ship! Who else could it be? How can I contact them?”
“Unfortunately, there are some regulatory issues with the vessel and it’s being held for an indeterminate length of time,” Manabu answered shaking his head. “When I dug further, I ran into governmental red tape and cryptic messages. I will try to find out more, but I’m going to have to go about it a different way. I was warned I’d be placed under suspicion if I kept digging.”
He reached over and touched her arm. “Don’t look so glum. I’ve been to Talamh many times, and have many connections I haven’t even begun to tap. I’ll go to the bars and eavesdrop. You never know what you can pick up at a bar full of dockers.”
“Thanks, Manabu. But be careful. We don’t need any martials sniffing after us.” She smiled at him, then looked at Max. “I know you’ve been focused on Currington, but is there anything you can do about my friends?”
“Oh course,” Max replied. “However, I think resolving my conflict with Currington will also solve the mystery of where Wren and her people are. What I don’t understand is why Eloch hasn’t announced himself if they’re here.”
