The Five Star Stories
Side Stories 2
Part 1
by Shawn Hagen
Addler
The Nation of Narsten
2989
Elenoin stared down into the blood red wine in the bell of her fluted glass, examining the distorted reflection of her brown eyes therein. She had the demeanour of one who expected to find the answers in the ever shifting surface of the alcohol.
The truth was that she stared at the wine so she would not have to look around the room she was in; to chance meeting someone's gaze and needing to interact with the people within the room. Her hope was that her pose would dissuade any desire for small talk amongst the guests.
Narsten was a small nation on the planet Addler; a chain of five islands on the equator. From the western most island of Knales to the eastern tip of Pajer it was almost eight hundred kilometres in length. Elenoin's mother had owned house on the north coast of Knales.
When Elenoin had exited the shuttle at the spaceport on Veldun (an island in the middle of the chain) she had been sure that things would finally calm down. She would simply hide herself away in her mother's old house for a decade or two to think things through. She had also been sure that a few bribes would clear her through customs.
That had turned out to be a miscalculation.
It had turned out that the bureaucracy within Narsten was not as corrupt as she might have hoped.
She had been detained as soon as she had shown her passport, as well as a sizeable amount of currency folded within it. It had not taken long for her, a Headliner with both Fatima and Mortarhead, to be brought before Narsten's ruler.
The Prime Minister of Narsten was also a member of the royal family: as all the Prime Ministers before him had been in the nation's six hundred year history. That they had all been fairly elected was something Elenoin could not really believe, however that was what was claimed.
Prince Jeral Heldrick was an old man, come to the position late in life. Still, old as he was, he was sharp. He had interviewed Elenoin for a short time, asked some rather pointed and telling questions and then had her placed under arrest. Of course those words had never been used. She was an honoured guest of the Narsten nation. That had been eight days before.
She had no idea what Heldrick wanted from her but she could tell there was something he wanted. She was sure of that.
Elenoin would have been happy to have spent that time in her cell. That the cell was a six room suite with a full staff made such a decision easier.
Unfortunately Heldrick's granddaughter had had other ideas.
Lara Heldrick was a young woman, though she was Elenoin's senior by fifteen years, who had a penchant for parties. She threw them often and Elenoin had been invited to every one since she had arrived. After all, as Lara was fond of saying when they were in private, a Headliner, on the run no less, was such a romantic figure. That night's party was Elenoin's third. Not that Lara widely advertised that face to her guests. Flighty as she might seem she was not stupid.
Elenoin did not like the parties. They were too crowded, too many people around her, touching her. The wounds to her psyche were still to fresh, to raw. Young men, as well as older and not a few woman were always looking at her, as if she were an object to be possessed. In quieter times Elenoin would admit to herself that most of the looks were full of innocent curiosity, friendliness, and a few were openly lustful. The parties were not quiet times and all Elenoin could think of was that she did not want to be there.
Without being too obvious about it she looked down at the watch she wore. It was still early in the evening but she had stayed long enough and had put in a appearance. She could leave without seeming rude: At least not too rude.
She placed her little touched wine down on the ledge of the window beside her then walked away, navigating the crowd, being careful not to get too close, making her way to the door.
Her clothing was well suited for easy movement. A loose pair of indigo slacks, a cream coloured blouse and a pair of low heeled sandals. She also wore some silver jewelry, earrings, a choker, and a ring with her family seal on it. All of it had been a gift from the nation of Narsten.
Her long brown hair had been tightly braided and then piled atop her head and held in place with several rods of darkly stained hardwood. The hair gave her a little extra height, helped to make her look taller than she was, at least from a little ways off. Elenoin was not bothered by her shortness but her maids seemed to think it was something that had to be dealt with.
Lara had dragged her off on a shopping trip almost as soon as Lara's Grandfather had finished with Elenoin. She knew the young woman was both friendly and had no doubt seen a person in need of a friend. Elenoin also knew that she had been subtly pumped for information almost constantly. She was not sure how much she had actually told Lara.
"Chatruse-san," someone called from behind her. She was still using her mother's maiden name; it was safer. She sped up, pretending not to have heard the voice, and continued for the door.
The band started playing at that moment, people moved out onto the floor, starting the steps of some dance that was currently popular. Suddenly Elenoin's forward speed was cut in half.
She moved with the dancers, sliding between couples, her slim build helping, so graceful were her moves it would have been easy to mistake her flight for dance itself. Behind her she could hear Jismal Miisen, a young man who had been annoying her for a few days, moving through the dancers, obviously with less grace than her if she was to judge by the loud complaints his passage generated.
She had cleared the main body of dancers and was making the last dash for the doors when a hand closed around her upper right arm, fingers digging into her flesh, halting her flight.
Panic set in, the grip was too familiar, it set off all the alarms.
She spun to the right, breaking the grip. Her right fist balled, cocked forward, ready to snap out straight on contact to give the hit that much more force. A killing blow.
Checking herself suddenly, she halted her movement, her fist, only a few centimetres away from Jismal's temple. He looked down at her, a confused look on his handsome face. Elenoin forced her hand open, made herself relax, and placed the back of her hand gently against his forehead for a moment in a somewhat futile attempt to hide what she had almost done. She pulled away, the contact like a shock to her, she moved a little too fast and it showed.
"Chatruse-san," his voice held the tone of confusion and the slur of too much drink, "would you like to dance, or," he looked towards the doors, "take a walk in the garden?"
"Thank you for the offer Miisen-san but I am feeling a little tired. Perhaps another night," she said as she turned quickly and fled the hall. Jismal stared at her back, looking very confused.
Almost no one in the room had noticed the little drama that had played out for them but a few had.
"That girl must really learn to control herself," Lara said to her dancing partner. "She should calm down, relax a little."
"Oh, I'd say she is quite in control of herself," Edward Panzer told her.
"She almost hit poor Jismal," Lara pointed out.
"Jismal is a fool." Edward dancedher through a spin. "He should learn to keep his hands to himself."
"Be that as it may, there was no reason for her to almost hit him."
"If she had hit him, Miisen-kun's skull would be staved in right now. That he is still among the living is testament to Chatrurse-san's control."
Elenoin ran down the short stair flight, taking deep breaths of the humid night air. At the bottom of the stairs she leaned over the stone railing and threw up, the little wine she had drunk splashing on the grass.
It was hard to control her shaking. Jismal had grabbed her. She had almost killed him. She was not sure which was worse. She was loosing control. Elenoin did not know what to do any longer.
With uncertain steps she set off into the thick, jungle like gardens that surrounded the estate. The air was heavy with heat and moisture, her light clothes were soon beginning to stick to her. She almost wished she had stayed in the air conditioned comfort of the house, but there she would have had to deal with people. It would be a few hours before the air cooled, before anyone ventured out into the gardens for a moonlight stroll.
Reaching up she removed the wooden pins from her hair, letting the braid fall down her back. She looked down at the four rods in her hands, something she had picked up when Lara had been running about the lingerie section of the mall they had visited.
She grasped the end of one of the rods and gave it a firm twist. It moved slightly, there was a click and from the wooden sheath she removed a slim throwing spike.
After a moment she pushed the spike back into place and locked it. Would there ever be a time she could finally let her guard down, she wondered. Did she even really want that? Was it better for her not to trust than to risk being hurt? She did not know.
Elenoin thought about returning to her room, where she could feel safe with Sif, where they could talk. Unfortunately there was also the maid staff, some of whom had taken a great deal of interest in her and would not leave her alone. One of the women treated Elenoin like a daughter, a young daughter, the other two were trying to be older sisters to her.
Then she saw it, just peeking over the trees, the bulk of her dorey. Visiting Moriggan, seeing if any of the parts she had ordered had arrived yet would kill some time, give her something constructive to do. It would also give her privacy.
The dorey had been moved to a clear area of land near the main house. The carefully arranged slabs of concrete suggested that the area had served similar purposes in the past. The huge vehicle sat there, and that was all it would do. A number of key components had been removed from the generator. She would not be going anywhere in it any time soon.
Jeral wanted her close at hand until he could decide what to do with her. She could have just taken Moriggan but she did not want to leave the dorey and the truth was she had no where else to go. She had chosen Narsten in the first place because she could be comfortable there and live in seclusion. The property on Knales was the only place she owned in such an area.
In front of the dorey was a tarp covered shape. She approached it and pulled the tarp back a little. Underneath were a number of neatly stacked crates. They were covered in neat black stencilling, the parts she needed to put in the new control system.
She shifted the crates slightly, looking for the mounting brackets. She found them in one of the smaller crates.
She walked over to the door that led into the carriers bay and tapped in the entry code. Once it was open she began to move the crates into the dorey, on hand and easy to get to.
It took her a few minutes to complete the task. Once done she closed the door up then brought the lights up in the bay.
Moriggan knelt there as always, waiting. She smiled up at the machine. She could trust him; he would not hurt her.
"We've got a little bit of work to do," she said, still smiling. "I'll do my best to keep it painless as possible."
Elenoin went and opened the crate containing the mounting brackets and removed several of them, looking them over for possible flaws. The brackets were the foundation for the entire control system, if she did not get them right the whole system would be off.
As she looked them over she was surprised at how much she remembered from her short time as an apprentice. Admittedly, recently she had spent hours every day pouring over technical manuals and texts, searching for every piece of information she needed. It had been hard but it had also been enjoyable, a challenge and something to occupy her mind.
Placing the brackets she had selected on the floor she went to gather up the rest of her tools, taking them for cabinets around the bay. She did not care much for how the tools were arranged, obviously they had been put in their present set up by someone who did not make repairs themselves. No doubt Anthony, she thought, checking the batteries in a laser cutter.
Before she could even begin to shape the brackets she had to measure out the interior of the bare cockpit. She set up the laser range finders, pulled on her goggles and began to map out the interior down to the millimetre.
It was long and boring work and she had to double and triple check to be sure. That was one of the unpleasant things she remembered from her apprenticeship, the almost mind numbing attention to detail. It was one of the reasons she had given up.
Now that she was setting up her own control system she could appreciate that attention. The slightest mistake could cost her one, maybe even two percent of control efficiency. She had not minded the huge drop in efficiency she had occurred against Tristan and his men but she had been sure that Moriggan and Sif outclassed them. She also had not been thinking straight.
In the future, if she were to fight, she would want, and no doubt need, every little edge she could get. As boring as it was she gave the task her full attention and made sure it was done right.
She stripped off her clothes as she worked, the heat beginning to get to her and the clothing getting in her way. By the time she finally finished she was down to her camisole and panties.
Perching on the sill of the cockpit she looked over the measurements she had taken, checking them against the second and third ones just to be sure. Satisfied she pulled her computer up and began to enter the information. The programs took that as well as her own measurements and began to work out the best placement for the mounting brackets. Elenoin placed the computer aside so it could run the simulations and climbed down to the bay floor.
After stretching the kinks incurred in the measuring she retrieved her blouse from where she had tossed it and put it on. Covered enough to be comfortable she walked forward to the small cabins in the dorey. She rifled through the fridge in the galley until she found a can of carbonated juice then returned to Moriggan.
She climbed back up to the cockpit and checked on the computer. As she drank from the can she looked the results over. The computer had narrowed it down to two placement patterns. It was currently running simulations to decide the best. Elenoin would use the final pattern as a guide. Supposedly the best of the Miesters, the Sopps of the cluster, did not need to use a computer to make such placements but Elenoin was not one of them.
Picking up one of the brackets she looked it over and reached for a laser cutter to make the first of the shaping cuts when the door buzzer sounded. She considered ignoring it but decided she had better see what it was about. She swore, if it was some party goer who was bothering her she would make he displeasure obvious and to hell with good manners.
She leapt down from the Mortarhead and took a moment to pull her slacks on then continued to the door. Before she opened it she checked the cameras, just to be sure there was no threat. She was surprised to see Jeral Heldrick standing there.
"Prince Heldrick," she said as the door opened. "How may I help you?"
"I'd like to talk to you Karimon-sama," he said, looking up at her. He was a short man, thickly built, he looked more like a labourer than a ruler. His hair was long and, grey and thinning. His eyes were dark blue and in the light coming from the inside of the dorey she could see that they were shot red with blood. In the shadows behind him she could make out the forms of his security detail.
"Of course, would you like to come in?"
"Yes, thank you," he grabbed the handhold on either side of the door, placed his foot in the bottom most ladder rung and began to pull himself up. Elenoin realized that while she and Sif easily moved in and out of the dorey most people had some trouble climbing into the high placed doors. She reached down and gently pulled him into the vehicle.
"Thank you Karimon-sama," he said, looking a little surprised at how easily Elenoin had handled him.
"I think we might be more comfortable in the galley."
"Lead on."
After waiting a moment to see if any of the security people planned to come in, none did, she led him to the galley, wondering what he wanted to speak to her about. Once he was seated, she offered him something to drink then took a seat herself and waited for him to begin.
"What is it you want here?" he asked her.
"To live, to be left alone," she said flatly.
"Do you know what is happening on Junoo right now? In Colus, and Hagooda, to be specific?"
"No."
"You should. There are a number of parties requesting custody of one Elenoin Karimon."
"What?" She knew surprise showed obvious on her face.
"You have some rather distant relatives on your father's side in Hagooda. They have put in requests with a number a agencies, including the Lent Federation, to attain custody of you once you are found, and so there are a number of people looking for you."
"They want my money," Elenoin told him.
"No doubt. They've made a petition to claim your assets in advance, to take proper care of them. It was denied. Of course even if it wasn't I doubt they would have found them considering how well you have hidden them."
"You said in Colus as well. I have no relatives in Colus."
"No, but Anthony Xanadu's heir has made a claim based on the fact you are in possession of his uncle's Fatima and Mortarhead. He says he feels responsible."
"I suspect he just wishes the prestige of having a Headliner in his family."
"You are rather cyclical for one so young. The royal family of Colus has also put in a request. There's is based on a feeling of responsibility. The doctor who let you go has been disciplined as I understand it."
"That's unfortunate."
"I would assume he would agree with you. There are also a number of other claimants but they are in too weak a position to really have a chance."
"What does all this have to do with what I want here?"
"For the next five years, until you reach age of majority, you are a very desirable person. You want to live here, in my country. I will have to hide and protect you."
"Dangerous?"
"It could be. Narsten is but a small nation. I do not have much power."
"But you could, hide me that is?"
"Yes."
"And the cost?" she looked at him.
"Is for another time." He stood. "I just wanted you to be aware of what was happening in the Cluster at this point in time. I will leave now." He inclined his head slightly.
After seeing him out Elenoin returned to her work, cutting the brackets and fitting them into the cockpit. She took the flat screen from the computer and taped it up on the interior so she could keep checking it.
As she worked she considered what Jeral had told her. How dare so many people lay claim to her, as if she were some piece of lost baggage. And to be under orders almost, to have to give up her freedom for five years. She could not do it, she would not.
She slipped the third bracket in to place and began pushing. It slid part way in before jamming. Elenoin looked down at it. She pushed harder, then harder still. When that failed to work she began to pound on it with the heel of her hand also to no avail.
Reaching up she grasped the edge of the cockpit and pulled herself up. She was about to swing forward, hitting the bracket with her feet but stopped herself. She was not wearing any foot ware so such a procedure would likely hurt and it would not help.
Returning to the cockpit she slowly began to remove the bracket, wiggling it back and forth until it finally came out.
She had not cut it quite right and her rough treatment of it had caused some small cracks along the edge. Sighing Elenoin placed it aside and began shutting down all the tools. She was in no shape to work, her mind was not focused on the task. She would have to recheck to the other two brackets to ensure that they had been installed properly but that could wait.
It took her several minutes to put all the tools away and clean up the mess. She shut off the light in the carrier bay. A few of the red safety lights remained lit and they cast their odd glow onto Moriggan. She looked up at the Mortarhead and wondered what she might do.
The real reason she wanted to be on her own was that she did not trust anyone, not anymore. Why couldn't everyone just leave her alone, she wondered?
Sif sat in one of the chairs in the sitting room. She had her legs drawn up under herself, her hands busy with the task of combing out her long, light brown, almost blonde hair and turning the pages of a book she had balanced on her knee. She wore a long bath robe of soft yellow terry cloth.
The Fatima looked up from the book when she heard the outer door opening. "Master," she called softly?
"I'm home," Elenoin said quietly as she entered the room, looking tired.
"Are you all right?" Sif placed the book and comb aside as she got to her feet. "You were gone a long time." She crossed to room to stand near Elenoin. The Fatima was not only taller than her master but she looked more mature as well. She looked down at Elenoin, careful not to touch her.
"Just working on Moriggan, keeping myself busy." Elenoin walked by the Sif, heading for the room they shared.
"I'm glad." Sif smiled, following Elenoin.
"Sif, how did Anthony's heir know about me?" she asked.
"I left him a message Master," Sif told her.
Elenoin almost turned on the Fatima, about to start yelling but stopped herself. It made sense, what Sif had done, they had just gone off with both dorey and Mortarhead. If she had not left the message they might have been reported as stolen.
"I almost wish you hadn't." She pushed the door open and entered the bedroom.
"Why?"
"He wants to become my guardian." Elenoin shook her head.
"Oh." Sif could guess her Master's feelings about anyone trying to get control of her. "What will you do?" She closed the door behind them.
"Wait. Jeral has hinted that he will help me hide here, for a price." Elenoin began to undress.
"What price?" Sif stood by the door.
"I don't know yet. I'm sure he'll inform me soon enough."
"Oh."
Elenoin finished pulling off her clothes then climbed into the bed. She flipped the covers to the side and looked over at Sif. Sif undid her bathrobe, letting it fall, revealing the silk slip she wore underneath.
As she climbed into the bed Elenoin shifted slightly at first, as if trying to avoid any contact with the Fatima. She forced herself to relax and moved close to Sif, placing her arms around her. She hated to be close to anyone, she had since Tristan had raped her, but she needed the comfort the Fatima provided to keep the worst of the nightmares away.
Soon both were asleep.
Elenoin pushed her horse faster, riding across the open field, climbing the gentle slope of the long dormant volcano. The horse was a russet bay with three white socks. She wore tan walking shorts and a loose shirt that hung loose over one shoulder. The inside of the stirrups felt a little rough against her bare feet.
Behind her, on a large brown stallion that had had actually frightened Elenoin with its power, was Sif. The Fatima had stroked its nose, whispered something in its ear and calmed it down. She wore loose pants and a long sleeved shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that bounced as she rode.
Elenoin slowed the horse to a trot then a walk to let it cool down. She pulled it to a halt near a small brook and swung her leg over the saddle to climb down. Sif was a few seconds behind her. They let the horses drink a little then pulled them away from the water.
"It is beautiful around here isn't is Master," Sif said.
"Very." Elenoin pulled a handkerchief from the pockets of her shorts and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
"Are you worried?" she asked.
"Maybe." Elenoin leaned up against her horse. "I don't know what Jeral is going to ask of me."
"Do you think he would give you up?"
"Yes. He can't afford to defy the law, to refuse any nation that has a recognized legal claim on me. He's not one of the big players."
"Can you get any help elsewhere?" Sif asked as she knelt to examine the stallion's left foreleg.
"From who?"
"What about your mother's relatives?"
"I don't think there are any that are still living. The only one I knew about was my Grandmother and she died before I was born."
"So what will we do?"
"See what Jeral wants. I don't think we will have to wait long." She put her foot in the stirrup and stood up in it for a higher vantage point.
"Is he coming?"
"The digg making it's way up here looks official." Elenoin reached under her shirt, touching the spaud there, the metal cool against her skin.
Sif recognized the movement for what it was and thought about retrieving her own weapon from the saddlebags of her horse then decided she would wait until ordered by Elenoin.
A short time later the digg pulled up close to them, the horses began to act a little skittish, bothered by the vehicle's noise and presence. Elenoin and Sif pulled on their reins and calmed them.
After the vehicle had come to rest the door to the passenger compartment opened and Jeral climbed out, making use of a cane. He looked at both women, especially Elenoin. There was something almost accusatory in his glance, as if she had caused him a lot of trouble by going out on the ride.
"I am glad to see that you are enjoying yourself," he said curtly.
"What else is there to do?" Elenoin asked. "We are basically confined here until you decide what to do with me. If you want us locked up you should put me in a cell."
"Perhaps," he told her. "But that would do us little good. Have you had lunch yet?"
"No," Elenoin told him.
"Well then eat with me." He looked to the driver who had exited the car carrying several packages.
"A picnic?" Sif asked, finding the idea charming.
"Of course my lady," he said, assuming his polite aspect.
"Thank you for your generous offer," Elenoin told him.
The two women tied their horses to a bush close to the brook and then waited with Jeral as the driver laid the meal out. Once he was done he went back to the car. Jeral slowly seated himself on the blanket.
"Please, sit." He put his cane aside.
"Thank you." Elenoin and Sif took seats across from him.
"It looks delicious," Sif told him.
"My chef is very good. Shall we?"
For a time they ate and made small talk, about the weather, the scenery, the horses and the food for the most part. They were starting on the desserts when Jeral put his aside and cleaned his hands with a hot towel.
"I came up here for more than a picnic with two lovely ladies," he told them, still charming.
"I guessed," Elenoin said.
"Tell me Karimon-sama, do you know what the nation of Narsten has to offer?"
"Beautiful scenery?"
"Exactly. We have a healthy tourist trade here, it brings in quite a healthy GNP but in the sphere of politics and cold war that dominates the cluster tourism is of little value. To survive Narsten needs powerful friends and allies. We survive by a web of favours that are owed to us."
"And how do you get these favours." Elenoin knew his explanation was leading up to the request he was going to make of her.
"I, as have all the Prime Ministers, offer information and services to those who do not want to get involved directly."
"You gather intelligence and supply BlackOp teams," Elenoin said bluntly.
"Exactly, though I prefer not to use such clarity."
"And I take you have such an operation where my skills would be useful?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"Have you ever heard of Mikhale Donnmal?"
"No. Sif?" Elenoin looked to her Fatima.
"I don't think so."
"Not too surprising, he ruled a small country, a little like mine, on Both. He was assassinated three weeks ago. There have been a number of assassinations, rulers, Headliners for the most part, that have occurred over the last three years. No one of any great importance mind you, but all together they start to add up to some serious possibilities."
"Are you talking about a conspiracy?"
"Perhaps, I do not know. I have been approached to find out what is occurring. I need your assistance to do so."
"I see," Elenoin said. "Why?"
"There are many reasons, let me start at the beginning."
"Please do," she said tartly.
"You are a rather rude young lady at times," he told her.
"Perhaps."
"The killers, they have killed Headliners, you know what that means?"
"They were Headliners?"
"So it was thought for a time but two of the assassins were identified. One when he was killed before he reached his target, the other when she failed the actual assassination attempt, leaving a witness to provide a description."
"How do you know the two were related?"
"Technique."
"And they were not Headliners?" she asked him.
"No."
"Interesting."
"The autopsy report on the one killed was also interesting," he said, his tone telling her to ask the question.
She did not disappoint him. "How?"
"He had undergone cyberchem treatments."
"Cyberchem?"
"Chemical and cybernetic modifications, designed to increase the physical performance of a human being."
"It's new?"
"No, nearly a thousand years old."
"Then why haven't I heard of it before. It sounds like just the thing that would be wide use."
"Because it is horribly expensive and it kills all the recipients ten to twenty yeas after the procedure, assuming it does not kill them immediately."
"But someone is using it."
"A desperate someone."
"And you, or more to the point, your client, wants you to stop it," Elenoin said.
"Yes."
"Why are they doing it?"
"I don't know."
"You suspect."
"If someone did not like your late father's policies and though that his heir, your older brother, would have been a better choice would it be in their interests to have him, you father, killed?"
"Of course."
"Would anyone notice?"
"Doubtful."
"And a number of such assassination, across the cluster, each causing a small change in the way a country is run?"
"You are," she stressed 'are', "talking conspiracy. A very large one."
"So I and others fear."
"Where do I come in?"
"Both of the identified assassins had something significant in common. Both attended Merilein University one hundred kilometres out side of the capital city of the Kingdom of Umos on Kalamity Goderce."
"You think they were recruited there?"
"Yes. You will go in as a student and find out what you can. You will also assist with the strike team if they are needed to go into action."
"I see. A student?"
"I have already had you enrolled in an advanced Mortarhead construction program."
"Advanced? How am I supposed to pose as a student?"
"You are a very intelligent young woman, you already have some experience in that area correct?"
"A few years as an apprentice but that's not much."
"I'm not expecting you to make the dean's honour roll," he told her. "You just have to maintain the facade for a few months."
"A few months?"
"If nothing has turned up by then, well I'll have to rethink my plans."
"I think you are asking a lot," Elenoin told him.
"So are you. In a few weeks it is likely that people are going to be coming to me, demanding, quietly, I turn you over to whoever thinks they have some claim on you. If I refuse them I am going to have to call in some valuable markers."
"What if I say no?" she asked.
"I continue to hold you here and send out your location to all parties currently trying to attain custody of you."
"I could run."
"Would it really help?"
"I doubt it. But it might not hurt." She paused, chewed gently on her lower lip. "If I do this you guarantee that you will let me remain here?"
"You have my word."
"I'm all yours then, for now."
"Good."
"I will hold you to that promise."
"I'm not surprised. Now lets get down to business."
Kalamity Goderce
The load of papers were balanced precariously in his hands, there was enough of a wind blowing that he had to keep shifting his grip to keep the top papers from blowing off the pile.
"Professor Amatri," someone called from behind him. He almost ignored it until he realized that whoever it was was calling him.
He turned quickly, much too quickly and ended up dumping most of the term papers.
"Professor Amatri." A young girl hurried to his side and then knelt down to start gathering up papers.
"You don't have to do that Miss…" he knelt down to help her.
"Raver, Patricia Raver," she told him.
"Can I help you Miss Raver?"
"I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your lecture." She handed him most of the papers.
"Thank you." He began to arrange the papers with more care, hoping that they would be easier to carry.
"Do you think I could perhaps get some private tutoring?" she asked, something suggestive in her tone.
He looked up at her over the glasses he wore, making sure that he was not misunderstanding her. She had the top few buttons of her blouse undone, even as he watched she pulled the material back. She was not wearing a bra.
"I'm sorry Miss Raver, I'm a little too busy to do any private tutoring," he told her, getting to his feet.
"Are you sure Professor," she flashed him a smile as she got to her feet. Her fingers tangled slightly in the material of her skirt. As she straightened she pulled it up showing the tops of her stockings for a moment before letting the material fall back into place.
"Quite sure," he told her, pretending not to notice. "Have a good day Miss Raver." He turned and resumed his prior course which would take him to the Faculty Club.
Patricia stared after him as he left, paying special attention to his behind. It was a rather nice behind, she was sure it would look even better not covered by clothing. Smiling she turned and headed towards of the campus libraries. She would get the good professor, she just had to find the right approach.
Markus Amatri wiped his head with a handkerchief then turned his attention to the term papers on the table in front of him. Deciding that they could wait he shifted his attention to the glass containing a large amount of whisky and then took a long drink.
A picture of Miss Raver, in his bed, wearing little more than his handkerchief entered his mind. He smiled, wishing he could take advantage of the situation.
He was good looking, he had been told it often enough, and the number of women who had come after him proved that. His light blonde, almost white hair, was worn long, down past his shoulders, longer than most of the academics wore theirs. His eyes were a dark brown. His skin was a soft café au lait. He was tall and slim and moved with a cat's grace.
He took another drink form his glass, enjoying the feeling of the alcohol as it went down.
Miss Raver, she could not have been much over fifty, a beautiful young woman, much like a number of his students who had made similar offers. He truly wished he could take them up on it but it would not due to call undue attention to himself. More trouble than it was worth in the end.
Finishing his drink he placed enough money on the table to pay for it and leave a reasonable tip, though not too high. A untenured professor's pay only went so far, then gathered up the papers and left the room.
He exited the club through the back door, taking a path that led between several of the buildings and eventually to a stretch of housing at the edge of the campus. His house was set far back form the road, private for the most part. It was small, nothing really special, but comfortable.
Balancing the papers in the crook of his left arm he fished through his pockets until he found his keys. There were three locks on the door and the door itself was a thick hard wood with a metal insert. The security had not been necessary so far but he was not about to take chances. It had been hard to get the work done and keeping it secret.
Pushing the door open he entered the house, placed the papers on the table by the door and closed the door behind him.
"Namia," he called as he locked the door.
"Yes Master?" the Fatima asked, entering the hall way from the kitchen. She was wearing an apron.
She looked more like a girl, small, slim, her red hair was cut short and spiked showing off the dark green memory crystal that sat up above her forehead. Her eyes were a light grey, almost blue.
"Can you grade those term papers for me?" he asked, walking into the living room to flop down on the couch.
"Should I finish cooking dinner first?" she followed him into the living room.
"Please do." He smiled at her.
"Yes Master!" She spun around and went back into the kitchen.
Markus put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. His appreciation of Namia had always been high, the Fatima had saved his life many times, but it had grown with the mission he was currently on.
A few months ago he would not have thought it possible for him to pose as a professor of military history but with Namia's help the pretence had been successful. She graded the papers, wrote his notes and sometimes coached through an ear piece. He knew tactics well and could explain why a commander did something but he could almost never remember who was on which side and what the battle had been about.
"Did you find anything out today Master?" Namia entered the room carrying the term papers. She placed them on the table and took a seat.
"Dinner ready?" he asked.
"Just simmering, it will be ready in a few minutes," she said, picking up the top paper.
"Some of my students seemed overly interested in the battle of 'Keevier Ridge'," he told her.
"That might mean something." She sounded a little distracted as she read the paper.
"Or nothing. An uprising against Headliner commanders is interesting to anyone who feels we have too many privileges, which is most of the cluster I believe."
"Oh my," Namia said.
"What?"
"This student is totally confusing the battle of 2031 in Bugstone with the battle of 2030." She shook her head and reached for a red pen.
He was about to ask her if it really mattered then held his tongue. Namia liked to lecture. He had no idea where she had learned about military history but she knew the subject well.
"I mean," she began writing on the paper, almost a perfect imitation of Markus' handwriting, "the reasons for the battles were completely different. And the effects," she shook her head, "to mistake one for the other!" Her tone sounded almost angry and the red pen continued to fly across the page.
Marcus felt sorry for the poor student. Thanks to Namia he had the reputation of being a hard but fair marker.
"What about that list of names I gave you? Did Pick get back to us?"
"Only Doctor Richardson seems suspicious. He had a second bank account under a different name."
"How much is in it?"
"About fifty thousand credits."
"Not really that much," he said. "Of course he may know something that he is being paid to keep quiet about."
"Do you want me to tell Pick to keep digging?" Namia looked up from the paper she was marking.
"No." Markus sat up on the couch. "We might take a closer look ourselves though."
Later that night two figures moved across the campus, avoiding groups of students, most of whom were returning from on campus bars and clubs. No one saw them and even if they had been spotted few would have attached any significance to it. A number of students were moving in a similar fashion, though not so well, out on some late night prank or another. It was just an accepted part of university life.
Markus and Namia ran through the night, like wraiths. They cleared the centre of the campus and made for the eastern side. A number of houses were there, residences for the heads of faculties, the university president and the like.
It did not take them long to reach Doctor Richardson's residence. They vaulted over the tall, privacy hedge without missing a step. Both Headliner and Fatima landed quietly on the other side and waited.
According to their information there was no security to worry about other then some simple alarms on the doors and windows. Both had learned that it did not pay to take things at face value.
Namia spotted them first, a series of electric eye beams spaced around the yard. She pointed them out to Markus who shifted spectrums on his night goggles until he saw them. Together they set off across the yard, careful not to break any of the beams.
The alarms on the windows and doors looked simple but that was a facade for a very sophisticated system. Marcus removed a small computer from his jacket pocket and plugged into the alarm. The lock pick ran the system through its paces, learned everything it could and then shut it down. After returning the pick to his pocket he stepped back and let Namia deal with the lock.
She slid a piece of memory wire between the frame, played with it for a few seconds to get it to wrap around the latch, then pulled. Markus reached around her to push the widow up. Namia went through first followed a moment later by her Master.
"Here," Namia said, swinging a portrait of Doctor Richardson to the side, revealing the wall safe behind.
"Too obvious," Markus told her, keeping his voice low. He walked about the room, looking around. Then he stopped, shifted his weight forward, then back and forward again. He knelt down and slid a piece of carpet back revealing the floor safe.
"How?" Namia was kneeling beside him.
"Less give to this area of the floor. It's been reinforced." He reached into his pocket for the lock pick.
"What do you think is in the wall safe?"
"Enough money and jewelry to satisfy the casual thief." He hooked the computer up.
The lock on the safe was several times more complicated than the system on the widow had been. They knelt on the floor for several tense minutes, listening to every sound, wondering if they might be discovered. The lights in the house had all been out, no one home or everyone asleep Marcus had guessed. He did not know if that might suddenly change.
The LED on the lock pick shifted from an unfriendly red to a soft green and there was a click as the bolts slid back. Marcus pulled the door up and open then reached in to remove several folders.
"What is it?" Namia asked.
"Let's see," he told her, taking a pin light from his jacket and shining it onto the folders.
"Whose Samuale Tyrst?"
"I don't know." He began to shuffle through the folders. "Wait, Jannete Leopold, she's a professor in the Chemistry department." He opened the folder.
"Atomic bonds in Ceramic Armours and Methods of Strengthening them," Namia read.
"Interesting." He flipped through the article.
"Do you understand it?"
"Not in the slightest." He shut the folder and looked through the others. "I think the Doctor Richardson is stealing the work of his colleagues," Marcus said. "Probably selling them to interested parties."
"So you don't think he is the one we are looking for?"
"No, I doubt it. Though he might know something," Markus said thoughtfully. "I think a little blackmail might be in order." He put all but Jannete's file back in the safe. "That's so he knows someone has been in here."
"This could destroy your cover," Namia pointed out.
"It could," he closed the safe, "but it is a chance that I am willing to take." After putting the carpet back into place Markus got to his feet. "Let's go."
Addler
Bugstone
Elenoin looked around the area, shifting the bag on her shoulder higher, grasping the strap tighter. She did not much like the area she was in, did not much like the way people were looking at her. Gazes would linger on her for a moment or two before shifting onto someone or something else. She did not look like a victim, at least she hoped that was the case.
Her black jacket reached the belt of her pants and was not doing much to help her fend off the chill night air. The off white t-shirt under it did not help matters much. Her feet were warm, a little too warm actually. The knee high boots were well insulated.
She took a seat at a ramen stand by the mouth of an alley, placed her bag by her feet. She let several rumpled bills fall onto the counter. They were whisked away by a tired looking woman who replaced them with a bowl of ramen.
Elenoin grabbed a pair of plastic chopsticks from a cup on the counter, snapped them in two and began to eat. After she finished she lay them across the bowl. "I'm looking for a man named Tienesen," she said, laying a few more bills on the counter. They were all higher denominations than the first ones.
The woman whisked them away and once more put a bowl of ramen in front of her. "he moves around a lot."
"So I've been told."
"You don't look like a cop."
"I'm not."
"What do you want him for?"
"I want him to make me something."
"He only makes one thing well enough for people to look for him."
"I know," Elenoin pulled open her jacket slightly, showing her spaud.
"I see. You don't look much like one of those either."
"Appearances can be deceiving." She smiled slightly, making it as cold as possible.
The woman did not answer immediately. After several seconds she said, "Down the alley, there's a set of stairs on the right, he's down there."
"Thank you." Elenoin began to eat her second bowl of ramen.
Finished she pushed it aside then stood up, grabbing up her bag. Looking around once to make sure no one was close she walked into the alley. It was a perfect place for an ambush. She reached the stairs unmolested and walked down them. At the bottom she knocked on a thick, metal door.
"It's open," a voice called from the inside.
Elenoin pushed the door open and entered.
The room was small and made more cramped by everything in it. Strings of parts hung from the ceiling, boxes were stacked one atop the other to the ceiling, the floor was littered with metal shavings and similar garbage.
And old man sat behind a large table that was just as cluttered as the rest of the room. He was working on a spaud, a jewellers glass over his eye, a small driver in his hand. There were several other spauds, some in various states of assembly, on the table in front of him.
Kildorn Tienesen made and sold spauds to everyone, defying the laws that said only headliners were to possess the weapons. Elenoin has asked around a little and heard his name come up several times.
"Close to door," he told her, not looking away from his work.
Elenoin did as he said then crossed to his desk in only a few steps.
"What do you want," he asked, putting the spaud aside?
"I want a spaud," she told him.
"Take any of the complete ones on the table, thirty thousand credits."
"I don't want a cheap knock off," Elenoin told him. "I want art. I want a proper mate for this," she reached into her jacket, careful not to move too suddenly, and drew forth her own spaud and offered it to him.
Kildorn removed his jewellers glass and looked at her. "Headliner?" he asked as he took it.
"Yes."
"Don't look it." He turned on a desk lamp and put on a pair of glasses.
"So I've been told."
"This is very nice, now who, ahh, here." He found the makers mark. "Julliard." He looked up at her. "Julliard only made about twenty spauds before she died."
"So my mother told me,"
"Family heirloom." He smiled slightly. "I like that. So you want me to attempt to match a masters work?"
"They say you are a master."
"Maybe once." He sounded a little sad.
"You had the talent but you never made anything worthy of it," she told him.
"You are being rude young lady," he snapped.
"I'm also being truthful."
"Maybe so. Why come to me?"
"I figure this is your last chance to make a master work. You will be motivated." She drew forth a bundle of new bills from her bag and placed them in front of him. She followed it up with a second.
"I'm not sure…" He looked at the bills, then around him then at the spaud in his hands. "What do you want it for?"
"I'm going to shift to a two weapon style."
"Let me see you hands," he told her.
Elenoin put forth her hands, keeping herself in control as the man took them in his and began to look them over.
"Currently fight with your right, train with your left though?" He ran his thumb along the calluses on her right hand.
"Yes."
"Shows. How good are you with the left?" He released her hands.
"Good enough."
"I think you will be displeased with a two weapon style."
"I'll make that judgment on my own."
"Okay, I'll do it, at least I'll try," he told her as he placed her spaud on the table and began to search though the clutter on his desk.
"When will you be done?"
"Few months I would think," he said as he pulled a ball of plastic wrapped modeling goo free from a stack of papers. "Any problems with that?"
"I don't think so."
"Good," he pulled the plastic from the goo and began to smooth it out on his desk. "I'm going to make an impression of the design."
"It doesn't have to match perfectly," she told him.
"I wasn't planning on trying." he picked up a piece of cylindrical marble from the floor, wiped it off and used it to roll the goo smooth.
He put the marble aside and picked up her spaud. He placed it on one edge of the goo and then rolled it across, leaving an impression of the design on the material. He used a mild solvent to clean the spaud afterwards and returned it to Elenoin.
He stared at the impression for a time, then looked up at her. "I think… I think I would like to ask my daughter to help me."
"Are you asking me permission?"
He nodded after a moment. "Maybe you are right, maybe this is my last chance to create a master work, and maybe not. Maybe I'm too old, maybe all I'm good for is cheap works, but maybe this is a chance for my daughter to create her first master work. But for what you are asking, you have to make that choice."
"If she can help you make a match for this," Elenoin held up her spaud before returning it to her jacket's inside pocket, "or make it on her own, I'll be happy."
"Let's say two months then." He took the bills and placed them somewhere under the table.
"If I don't show up you can send it to here." Elenoin took a visiting card from her pocket. The address of a bank was written on it.
"I understand."
"Good." Elenoin turned and left the room, closing the door behind her, not looking back.
She walked up into the alley, out past the ramen stand and then stopped when confronted with a large, black digg parked in the middle of the road.
A well dressed man stood near the open driver's door. He wore a tailored suit of dark blue and his shoes were highly polished. That was what stood out abut him, and every other aspect he was average, easily forgettable Elenoin noted.
"Karimon-dono?" He pitched his voice to ensure it only carried to her.
"Yes." Elenoin decided not to lie.
"Doctor Chrome Ballanche requests your presence," he said.
Elenoin wandered what the Cluster's premier Fatima Meight could want with her. She wondered how he even knew she was here.
"Why?" she asked a moment later.
"He wishes to speak to you about your Fatima, that's all I have been told."
"I see," Elenoin said quietly.
"Please." The man opened the rear door into the passenger compartment.
Elenoin looked around. There was nothing and no one who could force her into the car. That was what decided her. She moved forward, keeping as much space between her and the driver, and slid into the back seat.
As the driver got into the front Elenoin checked the door, making sure it was unlocked. Satisfied that she was not trapped she let herself relax a little, but not much. During the entire ride she was waiting for something to happen; her hand never too far from where her spaud rested within her jacket.
It took almost half an hour for them to reach their final destination, a huge manor house some distance from the city. It was a large structure with double doors at the front entrance. It reminded her a little of her old home in Hagooda.
The car pulled up in front the steps that led up to the front doors then the driver got out and opened the door for her. He offered a hand to help her out but Elenoin pretended not to notice. She shifted her legs from the car then stood.
"This way," he said, starting up the steps. Elenoin walked beside him.
The door was opened by a fatima in a maids uniform. She smiled at Elenoin.
"Karimom-dono," the driver said.
"Please," the fatima said, "come this way."
Elenoin left the driver behind as she switched escorts. She was led through the house, towards the rear, she guessed, and finally to a sitting room with windows looking out over the gardens.
"Karimon-dono," the fatima said, announcing her.
"Show her in," someone said in a soft but rough voice.
The maid indicated the Elenoin should enter. Elenoin took several hesitant steps in.
"Please," the owner of the voice said. Elenoin continued into the room and found the speaker. He was sitting in a high backed chair, looking out the windows.
He was an old man, his face lined with age. His hair was mostly black but there were touches of gray in it. He was still a very handsome man, Elenoin thought.
"Ballanche-Hakase." She bowed slightly.
"Karimon-dono." He nodded.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Please sit," he said. Elenoin settled onto the couch opposite him. "You are partnered with a Verdun Fatima, number 17, Sif."
"Yes."
"Did you ever meet Angram Verdun?"
"No," Elenoin told him.
"He was, for a short time, a student of mine," Ballanche explained.
"That speaks well of Sif then."
"No. I sent him away after two months. I discovered he was trying to steal from me, my notes and designs."
"Unfortunate." Elenoin wondered where he was going. Perhaps he only wanted to tell her that Sif's father was a thief.
"In many ways. Did you know Angram only made 17 fatimas?"
"No."
"Did you know he killed himself?"
"No."
"Sif is the only Verdun Fatima left alive."
"Fatimas, Headliners and everyone dies," she told him, regretting the moment she said it. It was obvious Ballanche was near his own death.
"Perhaps but of those deaths only two of them, 16 and 12, can be considered battle related. The rest, as hard as it may be to credit, were suicides."
"Impossible," Elenoin stated flatly.
"No, but certainly an aberration."
Elenoin was quiet for several seconds. "He stole something, some bit of research from you, and tried to work it into his own designs. He failed."
"Yes."
"You said number16 died in battle. Perhaps he had the problem dealt with."
"Karimon-dono, two of the Fatimas tried to kill their Masters, 15 and 8."
"Sif would not do that," she said, finally realizing what Ballanche wanted to talk to her for.
"Unfortunately you cannot know that."
Elenoin said nothing for almost a minute, knowing the pained, uncertain feelings were written clearly on her face. Finally she said, each word coming as if drawn unwillingly from her throat, "So what do you suggest I do?"
"I wish to examine her."
"If I let you it would be like I didn't trust her," Elenoin said softly.
"She need never know, I doubt it would even bother her."
"It's not her I am worried about." Elenoin got to her feet. "No Ballanche-Hakase, I will not allow this."
"I don't understand." He looked at her, the confusion obvious on his face.
"You don't have to." Elenoin walked towards the rooms exit. "Good night Ballanche-Hakase."A the threshold she turned. "Please excuse me." She bowed deeply then was gone.
Ballanche stared at the empty doorway. He did not understand the young woman's behaviour. Part of him wanted to go after her, to force her to listen to reason. That part had been dulled by age though, and the events of the last few months. There was only so much he could do.
Karimon-dono's fate would be decided by other than him.
Kalamity Goderce
The restaurant was just off campus. An expensive, small place that saw few students and few professors, except for those that were well heeled.
Markus sat at one of the tables, sipping his coffee. He was relaxed, at ease. Across from him Andrew Richardson was anything but.
"As I see it Doctor we don't really have problem here," Markus told him. "I just want twenty thousand and anything you know about any strange going ons on campus."
"You can't blackmail me." Angry as his tone was, he still kept his voice low.
"Of course I can." Markus smiled.
He had hoped that Doctor Richardson might have ties that he could use but the Doctor had proven remarkably useless. Still, the information might be useful and twenty thousand credits would be a pleasant bonus. He could buy Namia that dress she had been eyeing. It would be nice to get her something she wanted and had not told him about. And he would have something left over for himself.
"Fifteen thousand," Andrew said.
"Doctor, are you actually haggling?"
"The information I give you could net you tens of thousands more. You are a blackmailer after all."
"And you are a thief." Markus smiled. "Very well." He would not have anything left over for himself after all.
"How do I know you won't be back, demanding more?" he asked.
"That's the price you pay when you do something you do not want anyone to find out about," Markus told him. "Still, it seems likely that if I pushed you to far you might snap. If that happened it is likely that I would have difficulty plying my second trade."
"How do you want the money?" he asked, his tone losing some of the strident quality from earlier.
"Cash of course, bring it to my office tomorrow."
"I understand." He got to his feet.
"And don't forget the information."
"I won't."
"You will pick up the bill won't you?" Markus asked.
"Of course," Andrew said flatly as he walked away.
"Such a friend."
"Master." Namia rushed into his arms as soon as he had closed the door.
"What is it Namia?" He looked down at her.
"I was worried," she said.
"About what?"
"Pick called. He said someone else has joined the party."
"Really?" Markus picked her up and carried her into the living room. "Any idea who?"
"He just said a strike team has set up in one of the apartments off campus. I was worried that…"
"No one has come after me," he told her as he dropped onto the couch. "But your concern is noted." He kissed her.
"Someone has to take care of you." Namia wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Still, perhaps Pick should keep and eye on this apartment building." He kissed her again.
"I already suggested he do so."
"Well, then we don't have anything to do."
"I have a suggestion," Namia said as she pulled herself tight against him.
"I had hoped you would."
