The Chain Unbound
Chapter 3
"A Game With Added Reality"
She received the summons in the middle of the night, an urgent chirp of her tricom breaking her out of her deepest sleep cycle. She vaguely recalled slamming the tricom on her nightstand, but rather than break it as her original intention, the tricom answered the call from Leonidas Van-Der-Puls Hawksley.
The Governor of the Eta Eridani Confederation, and by indirect means her patron, was worth consideration more polite than, 'Screw off, I'm trying to sleep.'
He was mercifully short and to the point. Come to the Governor's office, be there for seven o'clock, and listen to an important proposal.
It was already four in the morning by Deneb's bizarre, human-inspired chronometric standard. The questions that arose, left unanswered by the Governor's hasty cessation of his call, robbed her of any remaining chance to sleep. She thought little on it as the fog of fatigue buzzed heavy in her head. Her night clothes slipped off as she shuffled her way to the sonic shower.
As the extra shrill setting jarred her mind to lucidity, she finally asked herself, "What does the Governor want with a temporal scientist?"
It was a question she mulled over her quadrotriticele toast and her first morning rakdejino, lacking the usual distraction of the galactic newscasts. Local news shed some light on the issue as they reported a subspace buoy tender still dispatched to repair one of the vital links to the Emerald Chain communications network. Connections to the other Chain worlds was tenuous and prone to failure. She paid the circumstances behind the inconvenience little mind.
She was one of several temporal scientists in the Emerald Chain.
But the only one in the Deneb sector.
Not that being a temporal scientist afforded her any real privilege. Post-Burn, temporal scientists were lucky to run simulations on a university supercomputer.
Maybe with the Governor's sudden interest, she might scrape up enough social credit to study the chroniton spikes on Essof IV. At worse, stuck answering questions like no, the chroniton spikes weren't a timeline-altering event and no, the timeline was not in danger.
Still, an opportunity for patronage presented itself.
She selected a pencil skirt with a shimmering fabric that transitioned charcoal to emerald. A matching v-neck blouse was paired with the skirt. It was a style divorced from the overt sexuality of Orion slave girls centuries past, ditched out of obsolescence and equality, but still held some roots in its sensual overtones. Like many of her kind, she was physically fit and naturally attractive, as exercise optimized her keen mind and her predatory beauty opened doors. She didn't need counter-grav support to turn heads, only the highlighting accoutrements of her dark blue eyeliner, matching lipstick, and the subtle blue highlights of her jet black mop of curly hair to accent her beauty.
Unlike others of her modest status, she didn't consider using the tricks of her gregarious, attractive people to be in poor taste or beneath her station. It was why she left her medical poly-inoculator, pre-loaded with a dosage of pheromone blockers, in the medical cabinet. There was funding at stake, therefore she wanted any advantage she could get.
"Besides," She thought while typing out the transporter co-ordinates on her tricom holographic interface, "It's his own fault if he doesn't properly prepare for an Orion."
Co-ordinates set, she slapped the badge, expecting to be transported to the Governor's lobby.
She beamed outside the entrance of the slate gray ziggurat serving as the Governor's office, surrounded by armed and armored Regulators.
"Identification please."
Not even an Orion woman argued with a Regulator in full battle kit, but she asserted her own form of dominance with a peeved flinging out the user interface of her tricom, summoning her identification. She spoke assertively, measured to remind the Regulators of their place without provoking their hostility. "Invigilator Ariyaa Neutu. I have an appointment with the Governor. I must not be late."
"Sorry ma'am." The Regulators' stance eased as they parted clear of the entrance. "Had to increase the personal transporter lockdown zone. Protesters."
She turned to look, spotting at the bottom of a dozen expansive steps, was a line of regulators, their rifle-truncheons held tight to their chest at parade ready, a long line of at attention soldiers staring down masses of angry, cursing, shabbily dressed people. A meter's distance and the shimmer of a constantly worked riot force-field separated the two parties.
Ariyaa asked, "What are they protesting this time? Did they decrease the replicator rations again?"
"Nope." The Regulator replied, "The geothermic project tearing up the slums."
"Figures." The Regulator's partner commented, "Almost like they don't want free electricity or something."
She felt an unsolicited moment of pity for the masses. She knew poverty herself, growing up in the capitol slums, with its accompanying urban decay and the crime that followed.
Deneb V was an energy rich planet, enough to meet the populace's needs were it not for their reluctance. An increase in fusion power plants? Protesters. Reactivation of fission power generation? Protesters. Erect a solar collector and microwave energy transmitter-receiver from low orbit to surface? Protesters. Ariyaa had her own theories on how to harness temporal science to ease the energy crisis, however, her last attempt to broach the issues were shouted down by many others in her academic circles.
Worries about the environmental impact. Complaints on every land reallocation. Fretting over centuries-old treaties. Dredged up fears laying in wait like imaginary monsters hiding in their closets and under their beds.
To her, their fears, taking what little they had, perpetuated their cycle of poverty.
"They don't see the bigger picture." Disgust thick in her voice, she turned away from the mob and entered the Governor's mansion.
The primitive locomotion of walking up stairs irritated the Orion scientist and solidified her opinion on the masses further. Soured as her mood was, she smacked her lips to refresh her lipstick and smiled once she arrived at the Governor's office's polished wooden doors.
Minus the Seal of the Emerald Chain, leaving a faded circle where it once hung.
It registered as typical building maintenance until she saw the sun-bleached outline of the removed governor's seal.
Yet Leonidas Van-Der-Puls Hawksley's name remained.
She saw further evidence something wasn't quite right when she entered the Governor's office. Far away from the capitol's downtown mercantile, the Governor's office had the luxury of an expansive view of Deneb V's expansive blue skyline. It's windows, a solid band of transparent aluminum running the width of the room and as tall as a quarter of its height, were raised to show the sky, and high enough to avoid the ocean and the city's remaining skyline. Where normally would hang the banners of the Emerald Chain and the Eta Eridani Confederation, there were blank spaces. The chromo-reactive carpets weren't in emerald and veridian as most government offices, now they were burgundy with gold trim. There were gaps in the bookshelves, missing busts of past Emerald Chain leaders. The mandatory picture of Minister Osyraa was missing as well.
And on the Governor's work desk, made of polished golden-hued natural wood, the miniature flags of the Emerald Chain and Eta Eridani were noticeably absent.
The only aggrandizement left standing was the Governor's portrait, a handsome, middle-aged human with straight brown hair parted to the left and cut to near baldness at the sides, bright hazel eyes, and a thoughtful look on his squared, auguste face.
It matched the man seated at the desk, albeit with subtle grays in his hair and less smooth, more rounded face than the portrait.
Struck by the Governor's show of vanity and the statement his office made, Ariyaa concluded she was no longer in friendly territory.
Her curiosity was further piqued by a Xindi Insectoid standing next to the Governor's desk. A Regulator, as showed by their tricom, with nothing covering them except a weapon festooned bandoleer. The Xindi unnerved her. She couldn't tell where their compound eyes focused. She didn't know the cues of their antennae or mandible, and couldn't read their emotions like a sentient mammal's face. And the smell! A musk similar to her own pheromones, but with an off-kilter alien smell.
Could Xindi do that? And were they working the same angle she was?
"Ah!" Governor Hawksley beckoned the Orion Invigilator over. "Please, sit, and accept my sincerest apologies for all the inconveniences."
The Xindi spewed a series of audible clicks and screeches, translated in a mechanical monotone. "You are the temporal expert?"
"Yes." She answered politely, displeased she was hearing the question from the Xindi, and not the Governor. "University of Deneb, Temporal Sciences Department." She added with a smirk, "The Governor knows, and now so do you."
There was momentary latency between the Xindi-Insectoid's clicks and the translation. "Very well. Am I dismissed?"
The Governor responded, "Not yet. I have jobs for each of you, and you'll both need to hear what I have to say."
Ariyaa retort was out of coquettish amusement. "I haven't accepted the job yet, whatever it is."
"Trust me, you will." He said, self assured. "I hear you're under-funded, unappreciated, and bored. By the end of this presentation, you'll have more than you ever dreamed."
"I don't know. I can dream expansively."
"And I can compensate... expansively. Sit, listen, and understand."
No hesitation in the Governor, no overcompensated swagger or fine words. Not like any human she knew. And not like any Orion. Ariyaa found the Governor's straightforward confidence charming.
A person to do business, providing his own brand of nonchalance didn't land him in too much trouble.
The Governor used his tricom interface to dim the lights in the room and summon a galactic star map over their heads. Several stars flashed a bright blue, light lines extending from the highlighted systems to display their data. "Essof V, Terralysium, Hima, and a little mining colony out in the middle of nowhere. Over the last several months, sensor stations picked up chroniton bursts of unknown origin. However, with the Chain's resources stretched thin, thanks to decisions made by the late Minister Osyraa, the last regime didn't follow up. And, to be frank, their trails were too cold."
"Pardon me, but the late Minister Osyraa?"
"There will be a lot of fresh changes to take in, Invigilator Neutu. I will explain, but Regulator Kai'a'li is in a rush so we must do this briefing first.." He pointed to the screen, highlighting a new system. A widening gesture with his finger and thumb displayed a star system with a large, blue gas giant. Around the gas giant orbited a white and green moon streaked with a ribbon of deep blue around its equator, broken up by the green and white of a landmass. A cascade effect radiated from the equatorial region of the landmass. "However, this one isn't. We detected a massive chroniton surge on Andoria."
"If you are asking me to investigate, I won't pass up the offer, but I know some colleagues on Andoria. It makes more sense to contact them."
"For reasons of state security I'm sending my Chief Regulator to the Andorian System to follow up. They'll relay any data to you."
"But Governor Hawksley, my colleagues and myself would be a better choice. There are variables your people will miss..."
"I can assure you, Regulator Kai'a'li will give you any pertinent information you need, but right now I need you. Here. And now." He waved off the Xindi Insectoid. "Kai'a'li, find out what happened on Andoria. Report back to us. You're dismissed. The... Invigilator and I need to discuss some things in private."
Kai'a'li's clicks and hisses translated to a flat 'Yes Sir'. A salute of their spindly arm, and the Xindi Insectoid Regulator left the room, but not before giving Ariyaa a suspicious glance.
Ariyaa waited for the Regulator to close the door before she launched into an inquisitive tirade, full Orion spite and fury. "What is the meaning of this, Governor? First you tease me with a fresh temporal event, then you tell me you're sending your Regulator instead? And what of this nonsense about the 'late Minister Osyraa'? And all the badges of office, our own flag, our own crest, being removed? If I didn't think you were absolutely insane, I would think that you're flirting with secession and acting as your own nation state. Which I know you wouldn't because that would bring the full retaliatory might of The Chain down on your little link. Then you, and all your confederates, will be marked for death as the fleet overruns your worlds." She paused, taking a deep breath. "But since I know by reputation you are not insane, I'm a little confused. Tell me what exactly is going on."
Ariyaa held the advantage in the Orion dominated social structure. Her aggression, she'd hoped, would put the human, even a high ranking one such as the Governor, in his place. "What's happened to The Chain?" Ariyaa snarled, impatient and insistent.
She got an infuriating, self-assured smile from Governor Hawksley.. "My dear, as of last week The Emerald Chain is no longer a viable political entity."
The anger she strategically used on the human leader deflated under such unbelievable news.
The Governor continued. "I was there for the dissolution. Barely made it out alive, matter of fact. Stole some of the silverware too while I was at it. But yes, it's true. The Emerald Chain is no more. Half The Chain hasn't realized it yet, and the other half is busy making plans for a post-Chain universe." His hand spanned the space where the Seal of the Emerald Chain once sat. "Take a guess what half the Eta Eridani Confederation lives."
Ariyaa spat out in surprise, "There is no way you can get away with this."
"While I was at the congressional facility, I absconded with their database, including classified documents straight from the Minister's desk. I found out why they avoided essential dilithium shipments. Why we've reduced our courier runs. Why, with exception to Minister's Osyraa's quixotic search for some rumored propulsion system in the Federation's possession, there hasn't been large-scale fleet deployments in months."
"Osyraa?" Ariyaa choked, thinking of the Emerald Chain minister.
"Dead, I'm afraid. Eleventh hour negotiations collapsed and degenerated into violence. We're still waiting on a more complete story of events."
Her outrage peaked. "And we are not at war?!"
"Because The Chain no longer can wage war. We though they called our regional fleets to retaliate for Minister Osyraa's death. It was a pretext to seize our fleets and its dilithium reserves. I barely made it out with my ships intact."
"But... I heard nothing of this..." She felt her legs turn to water. She braced herself on a chair.
"My dear, The Emerald Chain strictly controlled the flow of information. We only learned about it once they violently dissolved congress. To minimize panic, I strictly controlled all incoming and outgoing subspace communications traffic. I apologize, but it was necessary for the safety of my planets."
"But… we had the right to know!"
"Yes you do, and for that I'm sorry." Pacing behind the seated Ariyaa, Governor Hawksley placed his hand on her shoulder. A tender squeeze turned firm, then briefly painful before letting go. "However, events are moving fast, and on a scale beyond your need to know, my dear Invigilator. As of now, the Emerald Chain is no more. It's too busy balkanizing to come back. Your citizenship no longer holds power on this planet. You're in a foreign country, under a new regime. With no way out and nowhere else to be, you must ask yourself where you will go from here."
"So you don't see me as a part of the old regime? You don't want to liquidate me?"
Ariyaa's stunned reaction brought out a chuckle from the Governor. "No, my dear. Why would I want to do that? Your field of study, criminally undervalued under the old regime, is of great use to me. You have little reason, on a professional level, to be shackled to the corpse of The Emerald Chain." He gave her shoulder another squeeze, "However, there's every reason to come over to my side."
She wanted to recoil at The Governor's touch. His grip made her collarbone ache in contradiction to the smooth, purring tones of his self-assured voice. It felt like he offered a lifeline, gave her reason to feel wanted, with a not-so-subtle reminder who had control of it. The negotiations of a man who knew the angles, knew what he wanted, and hinted he needed her without giving up a position of strength.
Aware of his manipulation and maneuvering, Ariyaa couldn't help but admire the human's skill.
It was almost Orion of him.
"So what do you want from me?"
"My dear, I went through your late cousin's files regarding alternative energy sources. Believe me, The Emerald Chain explored every conventional possibility, but there were a few alternatives ignored or scrapped because of moral and ethical concerns. I know, not something one attributes to a brutal dictator, but even The Chain has its scruples, a fact most relevant when I dipped into the temporal technologies."
"And that's why you need me." Ariyaa words carried an airy, whispering quality, too shocked for further solidity. "You want me to manipulate time to ease the energy crisis."
"I want you to explore and develop options to that effect, yes."
"But we'll get caught, and if you thought The Chain will bring its weight down to crush you for secession, imagine that, only the whole galaxy, coming down on us for starting another Temporal War!"
"That won't happen, and I'll tell you why." The Governor let go of her shoulder and walked back to the galactic map. "The Emerald Chain doesn't have enough dilithium to scramble a response fleet. Starfleet is too busy putting out its own fires. No responses from temporal agents past or future, and if they did, we wouldn't be talking about this at all. Despite more pings on their radar than ever before, responses are severely lacking. It's like those who care don't know, and those who know don't care."
A quick slap of his tricom dissipated the galactic map projection. He continued, "You know your situation. Now here is mine. I'm in charge of a brand new nation state who's inherited all The Chain's legacy, including its problems. We're low on dilithium and have limited power projection ability. The Federation is on the rise. We've received reports of planets receiving humanitarian relief, including dilithium, far beyond our projections of their reserves. It's working too. The Federation brought new worlds into their fold. Even the Ni'Var are considering membership. Therefore, we face a shrinking time window to establish our power base, fend off our rivals, and implement new technologies to ease the energy crisis. All while watching for any V'draysh response."
"And if you fail," Ariyaa found her confidence again, albeit subdued, "You'll be out of a job and your planets will become a Federation protectorate. Or you're wrong about The Chain and they'll lay waste to you."
"Yes, all possibilities I mitigate with my plan. However, I see The Chain as a warning. Without a powerful leader and no alternative plan for the crisis, they collapsed. I am a powerful leader, in complete control of my nation, and I have a plan. What I need are people capable of carrying my plan forward. That is where you come in."
"And you want me to break the most ingrained rules of temporal science to do it."
"Is it really so bad? Unlike The Chain, I will do whatever it takes to keep my nation alive. That means all options are on the table. Including temporal ones." The Governor soothed, "Come my dear, I've seen your papers on the theories of localized temporal manipulation and containment. You're the only one who not only can pull off my plan, but can counter any potential fallout. I'm also the only one who will let you do what you've trained to do. Aren't you sick of running simulations on your university's supercomputer? Don't you want to contribute to your field rather than be a placeholder for it? And wouldn't you like to utilize your knowledge to save the last remnant of Emerald Chain civilization from total destruction? Don't you want to oversee the birth of a nation, with your science responsible?"
Temporal science, well past its peak from the 26th to the 31st century, was a dying science. The offer of practising her field beyond simulations tempted her. Even more, the offer of relevance tempted her.
An offer she felt was too good to be true. "It's not that simple, Governor. I know the science. I know the principles behind the science. I can re-create the old Temporal Wars technology, but we need to re-learn certain processes. Gearing up for production will take time. And some materials are no longer available. We have no time crystals and artificially making one is only theory." She concluded, "That's asking me to build a building when we've forgotten how to make concrete and we ran out of limestone."
"You'll have access to the congressional archive, your own knowledge, and whatever Kai'a'li may find. I'm well aware we have gaps. We will find ways to fill those gaps. And if Kai'a'li finds a lead with promise, we may find material as well."
"We would need a time crystal." Ariyaa said. "I have theories for artificial time crystal generation, but it would take years of research. A live example would speed up our plans from years to mere weeks. Tell your Regulator to watch for one."
"Done."
"And I'll require resources. Lots of resources. Massive construction. Mining efforts."
"We're in one of the most energy and mineral rich regions of the galaxy. You'll have them. And what we don't have, we'll find."
"And I want to be Chief Invigilator."
"Done."
"Of your entire nation."
"Also done."
Ariyaa blinked in surprise. She didn't expect the human to agree so easily. Maybe the pheromones were working?
"And my services will require a... substantial retainer."
"My dear." Governor Hawksley laughed softly. "Your position will make you the most valuable person in my new nation. Surely you're entitled to more than that?"
"The pheremones can't be working that well, can they?!" She held back her astonishment. "A mansion, and a vessel."
"The mansion is easy. As for the vessel, don't push your luck. No point in having your own ship if we don't have enough dilithium to power it. If your theories are correct, we'll have all the dilithium we'll need. By then, a starship will seem a paltry bauble. We'll have moved on to grander things. So what do you say?"
Ariyaa felt some skepticism towards the Governor's grandiose plan. It was ambitious, but the way he risked himself through candor and temptation, he was a man she felt supremely confident in his own abilities.
And he was right. She had no connection worth risking in The Emerald Chain. If it was falling apart like he said, she had less than nothing. And a fool's bet, as most Orions would see in the human's offer, was still better.
"Governor?" She shifted in her seat. Her eyes looked up at Hawksley, transfixed and attentive. "What shall we call our new nation?"
Hawksley waved over one of the wall panels. The programmable matter parted, revealing a replicator. "Terran champagne, two glasses." The champagne swirled to life. "Actually, I've put some thought into that, my dear. There is a stellar constellation, seen from the skies of my people's home planet. By chance, it's the star systems at the center of my area of control."
"Somewhat ethnocentric, is it not?" Teased the Invigilator.
The Governor found humor in her statement, his laugh soft and without a care. "My dear, you and I both know when you're at the top of the social stratum it affords one such luxuries. Besides, the constellation forms a symbol that's to my people a sign of strength, unity, and fear. We will need such symbols to reflect our values, make our statement to the universe, and give our rivals pause."
Taking the thin stem of the champagne flutes in his fingers, he offered one to Ariyaa, whom graciously accepted.
"The Eta Eridani Confederation is no more. To The Northern Cross."
Their glasses clinked together. Ariyaa's smile ran deep and sensuous, the Governor's energetic and ambitious.
"May it surpass all legacies. Eta Eridani. The Chain. And especially The Federation."
In another planet, on another star system, another Invigilator had plans of her own as she ran right into her thaan father's office.
"Thavan, do you have a moment?"
The Clan Estihi patriarch, caught flatfooted by Invigilator Mikolo suddenly bursting into his office, flailed away his suspended holographic readouts. "By the gods, Miko! You know better than to rush in while I'm working! That's what tricoms are for! Even as a child you harbored a severe lack of respect for boundaries..."
She stopped her old man from further mutterings. "Your tricom's always busy, Thavan. You rarely take it off do-not-disturb mode. Besides, you wanted a report on the time capsule appraisal and potential disposals. Well, here I am, and here it is."
She balled her fist over her tricom and flung the information at his desk. A holographic chart unravelled and hovered at eye level.
A list of the historic artifacts, found in the time capsule, completely inventoried and appraised in Emerald Chain credits, gold-pressed latinum, and dilithium.
The sum was sizable enough to appeal to the Clan Patriarch's avarice. His antennae bounced and shivered. "This is too good. Your appraisal was quick too. Are you sure this is accurate?"
Mikolo looked at her father with disdain. "Of course it's accurate, Thavan. It's why you pay me big latinum. I'm that good at my job."
"Yes, you're good at the minutiae of facts and details, but not at the social responsibilities, therefore your numbers are suspect."
Though it roiled in her stomach, she produced from her jacket the picture of the mixed quad. "This is the only item with no value. It's also the most incriminating. Do with it as you will."
The Clan Patriarch snatched the picture out of her hand. "Thank you, my dear. I knew you'd eventually see some sense. Now, how do I know you haven't embellished some of these prices?"
"Then check my homework, Thavan. You'll see."
The Clan Patriarch reached for his tricom.
Mikolo stopped him quickly, "Unless you want to alert every rival clan on the home moon that Clan Estihi's selling family heirlooms. An incredibly grim look for us, Sir. And some of the material's very questionable. You should see the inter-species adult material. Our ancestors were quite decadent. Very disturbing."
"Blast it, Shavey, you test my patience!" The Clan Patriarch snapped, his antennae flattened back in disgust. "Even if it is worth this much, what good is valuable material if we can't liquidate it? Throw them in the replicator and use their base matter for ice worm mulch!"
"Because it is worth that much, Thavan. Because done right, there'll be enough to buy another starship. And all without the clans finding out. So what do you say? For the clan's wealth, and for my sizable commission?"
Mikolo watched the Clan Patriarch's antennae rise again. "Well, yes, that is a consideration. We cannot sell them without losing face."
"A fact you didn't consider until I pointed it out." She thought bitterly, and continued, "Thavan, I have a proposal, one where we make enough latinum to draw a profit on the manor restoration and liquidate the more... troublesome items in our inventory."
Tapping the suspended holographic chart, she highlighted various items in red. "These are the items we must sell off without raising alarms. Therefore, let's take them to a market where we'll sell discreetly and maximize our profit. The items of Starfleet or human origin may be liquidated at one of the human-dominated world on our courier routes. Give me a courier vessel, and I'll take care of it."
"Your experience is limited. You think this is wise, Invigilator?"
"Thavan, I know humans, despite their lack of scruples, value historical artifacts. I can handle them. I'm also the only member of your clan who properly valuates these items. I've also been off world. Freecloud is as wild as any Chain world gets."
"That much is true, but still, I must refuse your request." The Clan Patriarch waved away the chart and summoned another. "The latest dilithium restrictions grounded our other runs, so take this one. You won't get another until next trading season. I'm pairing you with a courier. One of our best."
She wanted to thank her father for the first time in years. It was working! She had her way off the home moon. The only task left was sending a warning letter, delivered once she was safely away from Andoria.
His antennae, excitable and twitching, accompanied a delighted smile.
She knew by experience not to trust her Clan Patriarch when he smiled. "By the gods, what angle did he find and how will he play it?"
"You'll be glad to know I have Anib on this run..."
Mikolo's antennae sprang up, alarmed. "Oh no..."
"...and he knows the Sol system's peculiarities and the location to several human colonies. You can forget Earth, they closed their borders decades ago, but you'll find a buyer on Titan, even if Wen's Raiders."
"But seriously, Anib?" She blurted out. "Thavan, we do not get along. Isn't there anyone else?"
The thaan father looked away from the courier schedule to regard his shen daughter with something close to tenderness. "My dear, I know he may not seem to be a match for you, but I assure you, he is. He is tough, he is dependable, he commands respect, and he has no quad, just like you."
"He's a brute, he's a bully, and he's got the attitude and intellect of a rutting targ. It's no secret why he has no quad." Mikolo bitterly fired back.
"Oh please, he compliments you, fills in your weaknesses! Besides, be grateful he exalts you at all, despite any lack of reciprocity. That prickly exterior of yours doesn't make you the most eligible of bachelorettes. It's not like you've opened yourself up to many choices, and you're not getting any younger."
She wanted to scream. "Great, the one time I need to get off the moon like last cycle ago, and he uses it as an excuse to set me up with the most disgusting jerk in our clan's employ. Thanks a lot, thavan!"
What prevented Mikolo from refusal was the stone resting under her collarbone. The time crystal, and the dangers with it, were about to come down on her home. She needed off Andoria.
Titan wasn't Earth, but it was close. Make it Titan and she'd figure out how to get to Earth from there.
Her tone was thick with capitulation. "I suppose I could get to know him during the trip."
"Exactly!"
"But no promises. He's still got snow for brains."
"You can't equate book smarts with real, practical intelligence, my dear." He countered, dismissively. "Now go before you miss your ride. By the time you return, you've better made a profit or a friend in Anib!"
"Not likely in either case."
It wasn't exactly what she wanted, but Mikolo felt relief. She had her exit from Andoria, her historical artifacts saved, and a journey ahead.
She looked back at the picture of the married quad, left on the Clan Patriarch's desk, destined for destruction. She couldn't save it all.
Facing temporal doom, however, had a way of shifting her priorities.
Even teaming her with the most loathsome male she'd ever met.
"I said it would take the end of the universe to share the same room with him again. Wonder if he'll grasp the irony."
"Oh CRAP! Get the rest of the cargo stowed NOW! Boss's daughter's coming!"
Anib cursed under his breath. The loading crews were at the end of the matter transference sequence, loading the cargo into his courier shuttle's storage tesseracts. It was a dangerous procedure when involving the cargo's volatile nature. Highly unstable, highly energetic, requiring the most care.
And technically not on his manifest. The loaders thought it was quadrotriticele.
It was too late to switch cargo now. There were buyers on Titan, arranged weeks ago, routes already planned, including his backdoor escape.
Then at the last sliver of a microt, the Clan Patriarch hailed Anib on his tricom and informed the senior courier that his daughter was coming along!
The inconvenience of an unseasoned traveler aside, Anib's stomach twisted to knots and his face etched with worry.
"Last of it's in there." The loadmaster announced. "Need you to sign off."
Anib brought up his holoPADD and signed the document. He transferred the signed document to the loadmaster, who took one disinterested look and co-signed.
At least one thing was going right today.
But what to do about the boss's daughter? Keeping her away from the storage tesseracts wouldn't be difficult; she would have to know what to look for, or have an interest in what's inside. But once he made the sale and moved on...
Mikolo materialized in a flash of blue light, taken to the spacedock in seconds. One duffel bag slung around her arm, and a footlocker at her side, trailing behind her on a guided anti-grav sled.
He knew Mikolo since they were children. Years later, as adults, not much has changed.
Still the distracted, worried look about her, the obliviousness of a brainiac, the haughtiness of a stuck up rich bitch who didn't give him a microt's notice. Not that it stopped Anib from dreaming about her for years. There were still redeeming qualities, such as being the boss's daughter.
Or that she was one of the cutest shens he'd ever known, more than making up for her inhospitable nature. Many nights he dreams of her taking notice, or of him cornering her, forcing the issue so she couldn't ignore him any longer.
But why this trip? She'd ruin everything!
Then a thought occurred to him.
His trip to Titan was his big payday. Pull it off and get away, and he would be a thaan of considerable means. And a boss's daughter, a former boss's daughter, would have fewer excuses to ignore him when he presented her a lifeline.
"Try to ignore me once it all goes down, you spoiled brat. You can't ignore me every moment you're on my ship, and soon you'll be begging for my help."
Wisely, he kept his opinion behind a lecherous smile. His confidence grew as a plan formed.
He would have his big payday.
And the shen he desired.
Besides, where was she to go? Out the airlock?
His mood significantly improved as his plan formed and Mikolo approached the boarding ramp. "Well, looks like I have a companion for my trip, and a delightful one at that! Welcome aboard the Master and Servant."