The longer Zyan lived outside Djiel and travelled around, the more he came to realise that while the FSP might like to make a big noise about the equality of all it's member worlds, some planets were definitely more equal than others.
Some had vast natural resources at their disposal, like Chalice or the Trundomoux system. They needed only to exploit them – staying within the bounds of the FSP's conservation laws as much as was plausibly deniable – in order to accrue huge stacks of credits which could then be re-invested in their systems, or used to lobby the FSP Session.
Some had, by luck or by judgement, a single resource unique to their world. Ballybran was the obvious example, Djiel with it's intilla powder another. Carefully leveraged, this niche position could translate into wealth, influence and power. The Heptite Guild had managed this: Djiel hadn't, but might yet try again once all the redevelopment loans were paid off.
Others made a single trade their specialty and worked to keep on top of it. Yarra was the galaxy's brewery, a position it had held for centuries, upping it's game to see off any challengers. Regulus was a planet of administrators – project management was nearly a religion there. Fuerte was devoted to music above all else. Other worlds were known as hotbeds for science and technology, or seats of great learning.
Madame Supplicantata Maxim (real name Susan Jarvis – distant ancestor? Probably not), the founder of the world that would eventually bear her name, had taken one good look at all the nascent industry and effort springing up around her in the galaxy and been struck with a singular insight: nobody had specialised in sin yet. With a single-minded drive, she set out upon a mission to create a world dedicated to, in her own words, 'the pursuit of any pleasure of the flesh and spirit, without judgement – one rule only: nobody gets hurt'.
Her timing couldn't have been better – at about the same time, an obscure world in the Scoria system had started producing some odd black crystals: the larger ones could be wired up into zero-time-lag interstellar com networks, and this 'Heptite Guild' was tipped for great things off the back of this discovery, but nobody really knew what to do with the smaller ones yet.
Madame Maxim did. She had, amongst her client list, a cyberneticist of considerable ingenuity and extremely non-standard leisure pursuits. He developed a way to have the crystals interface with the human sensorium; she negotiated the bulk purchase of any black crystal which could not be used for anything else. The Heptite Guild's first Guildmaster knew how to back a winner: he let the whole lot go for a nominal fee of 'an old half credit', a five percent share in any future profits for the next one hundred and one years, and, or so salacious rumour had it, a torrid whirlwind affair with the beautiful Madame M. Thus, the Maxim-Kerensky Sensorium Interface was born – but they were better known as pleasure booths. Total immersion: customers didn't even have to know it wasn't real, if they so chose.
Now Madame Maxim really was in a position to make good on her mission statement: with the booths, anyone could do exactly what they wanted, with exactly who they wanted, whenever they wanted – for a reasonable fee, of course. This was the holy grail of the 'leisure' industry. The punters, and the credits, literally flooded into Maxim. A 5% slice of that flooded back out to Ballybran, and essentially underwrote the Guild's expenses for the next century.
The FSP, of course, went into regulatory overdrive – the influx of visitors to Maxim in it's early years was 50% paying customers and 50% assorted FSP investigators, missionaries, nay-sayers and moralisers: but the cash tsunami bought a lot of influence in the Session, and Madame Maxim had clients at every level. Maxim stayed open: and to the founder's credit she stuck with her original 'nobody gets hurt' philosophy. Cash also flooded out to good causes: Madame Maxim was a genuine philanthropist, true, but it never hurt to purchase a bit of extra goodwill. The population even declared her Queen. She died extremely happy at a ripe old age, surrounded by four generations of her descendants, and her legacy was looked upon as a generally positive thing.
Zyan, reading about all this while the Are We There Yet? approached the planet in question, felt vaguely guilty. Maxim was supposed to be a beacon of tolerance and open-mindedness, and he was here to find the shady underside and exploit someone who'd fallen foul of it.
Some unfortunate people just needed to gamble, and Madame Maxim and those who came after her were not fans: people got hurt, so while you could simulate winning or losing a fortune in the booths, there was no real gambling on Maxim. There were other worlds – Baliol being the notorious example - that catered to such vices, true, but inveterate gamblers weren't always in a convenient locale when the itch needed scratching. Zyan and Shara were hoping that one such gambler owned a ship currently in the Maxim system, and that he or she had landed themselves in trouble, needed a quick injection of credit to get out of it, and weren't too fussy about the conditions attached to said credit. Given the sheer number of vessels in orbit it didn't seem - pun intended - to be a bad bet.
The Are We There Yet? was a superior vessel in all regards, of course, but when the pair of singers set course for P13205 they would be flying in the face of the FSP. This ruled out going aboard Brendan, because he'd be duty-bound, once it became clear what was happening, to stop them. If for some reason he didn't decide to stop them, then he'd be in very serious trouble too, and it seemed unfair to put him in that position when it wasn't necessary. Fortunately, while listening to Brendan recount how he'd agreed to ferry the Guild's leading couple on a personal pleasure cruise, Shara had hit upon a perfect compromise: get Brendan to take them most of the way to P13205 at his insanely fast top speed, and then obtain slower but more controllable (neither singer wanted to say disposable, but they both knew what they needed) transport for the final short hop, which was only an hour or so at standard FTL speeds. After that, well, by that point they would be improvising and, probably, dodging around Exigency.
Black Zyan and Shara the ex-revolutionary from Chalice might have been very iffy characters, but CS Jarvis and CS Ferozacorazon, members of the prestigious Heptite Guild and extremely minted to boot, apparently rated an official welcoming committee. This irritated Zyan quite disproportionately, because although he had no way of forging an alternative identity at present he'd been careful to book unassuming accommodation (which, with any luck, they wouldn't need anyway) and a simple, no-frills orbital shuttle. He'd stopped short of outright asking for his and Shara's identities to be kept secret, though – there was usually no better way of attracting attention than trying too obviously to avoid it. On Maxim, however, the reverse was apparently true and it was someone's job to monitor arrivals for anyone they thought needed the VIP treatment. So, instead of the quiet hotel room at the edge of Maxim City they were informed – in a gabbled, confusing sort of way by a man's voice apparently on the edge of hysteria - they'd been given use of a city centre riverside apartment, and instead of the anonymous orbital taxi, an ostentatious golden-hulled monstrosity of a shuttle eased up alongside the Are We There Yet?, much to Brendan's amusement.
Brendan continued chortling as the lock opened to reveal their welcoming committee. Zyan hadn't been sure what to expect of the interior of the shuttle – he'd been privately dreading some sort of red velvet and diamond hellscape draped with semi-naked models – so it was actually a relief when the committee turned out to only have one member, an astonishingly pretty dark-haired woman in a relatively conservatively cut green silk dress.
"Welcome to Maxim, crystal singers," she said, with an elegant curtsey. "My name is Merisa Jarvis, Assignations Bureau."
Shara grinned. "Charmed and delighted, Merisa. I'm Shara, this is Brendan, brain of the BX Are We There Yet?, and this is Zyan Jarvis," she said, then turned to him with an impish grin. "Any relation?"
Zyan remembered what he'd just read when Merisa introduced herself.
Merisa smiled – she had a very pleasant one. "Well, yes, actually, as it turns out."
Cue an instant smirk from Shara, and a 'well I never!' from Brendan.
"Oh, do tell," Shara prompted the Maximese woman.
"Happily. Zyan and I are very distant cousins, you could say. When Djiel was in the news and the family name came up in connection to it, mother commissioned the FSP Genealogy Division to do a little research. We have a great-great-great-great grandmother in common – Dr. Annalita Jarvis, whose daughter Sianna Jarvis settled on Djiel after a career in the FSP Colonial Corps. We are both, of course, descendants of our honoured founder Susan Jarvis."
"Wow," Zyan said, genuinely surprised. "I, um, yeah, hi cousin Merisa, I suppose."
"Come aboard, come aboard," Merisa waved them through. "Mother is looking forward to meeting you. Do you have any baggage?"
"No, just these." They were already carrying their bags, Shara having found a way to stash her arsenal in hers. Zyan hadn't been able to get his range jacket into his, so he was wearing it.
"Mother?" Zyan asked, not feeling that he was really keeping up here.
"My mother, Sunita Jarvis, is the Queen of Maxim," Merisa explained.
Cue a moment of stunned silence from Zyan and Shara, while Brendan's drone bobbed about and giggled in a very undignified fashion.
Of sharding course she's the sharding Queen, Zyan groaned internally. It had just become an order of magnitude harder to do anything without tripping official alarms. Zyan forced his face into a mask of politeness, and didn't dare look at Shara, who would have realised the same thing.
"Brendan, Maxim is honoured to have you in orbit and we wish to extend you every courtesy. Do you require any supplies or refuelling? Maxim will provide these gratis out of our planetary supplies." Merisa asked the drone.
"Dear girl, you are most kind. A top-up of the old reaction-mass tanks wouldn't go amiss, thank you," Brendan replied. "Would you mind awfully if I tagged along via drone? I must confess I've never been to the surface."
"We would be delighted. Mother's invitation extends to everyone on board," Merisa said.
This was hardly convenient for Zyan and Shara's purposes, but, Zyan supposed, they'd already blown past 100% on the inconvenient scale and maxed out the gauge, so it essentially made no difference if Brendan was present too. Zyan decided he'd better play nice with his long-lost relation: there was nothing to be gained by being sullen, and she was, after all, an actual for-reals princess.
"The more the merrier," he said with a smile, stepping aboard. The interior of the shuttle was comfortable and well-appointed, but not ridiculously opulent. "Very nice of Her Majesty to let us use a residence by the river. Diplomatic quarters, I assume?" Those at least might be shielded and private – something may yet be salvaged from this.
"Oh – you don't know?" Merisa asked, eyes going slightly wide.
"Oh we don't know what?" Shara asked, with a smile that was becoming more brittle and forced by the second. She wasn't playing nice, it seemed.
"The River Palace is the official Royal residence – you'll be staying with mother as honoured guests. Zyan is family, after all," Merisa informed them with a bright smile.
Perfect, Zyan thought heavily. Just sharding perfect.
Shara's BlackTalk message arrived seven minutes later, while they were descending and she'd recovered her balance somewhat, chatting breezily with Merisa. From her tone in the message, though, she'd clearly recovered a lot in those seven minutes, because she had not been happy with him.
"You couldn't be related to a sharding freighter captain with elastic morals and a cashflow problem, could you? No, for you it has to be the sharding Queen of Hearts. Well played, idiot, another absolute Zyan Jarvis winner!" Her voice, even subvocally, could have cut through crystal without the benefit of a cutter. She apologised later – sort of – but Zyan couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. It wasn't his fault he had unexpected relations in high places, but their job had just got a whole lot harder.
- o O o -
Zyan would only find out much later that Shara's choice of words wasn't a reference to ancient Terran literature, or rather it was a reference at one remove. The constitution of Maxim specified that only women could wear the crown (Susan Jarvis had held Views-with-a-capital-V on gender relations a little at odds with received wisdom) so there was always a Queen, never a King. Some media wag had, at some point, referred to the incumbent as the Queen of Hearts, and the moniker had stuck.
Zyan and Shara were taken to the River Palace by a somewhat circuitous and indirect route that included a floating shuttle landing platform in the middle of the river, a skimmer ride, and then a completely needless transfer to a clinker-built wooden launch rowed by a crew of eight intimidatingly well-built men for the final stretch. Zyan, looking at them, reminded himself he was a spore-supercharged hard case. Shara, wearing a speculative smile, was dividing her attention between Merisa and the men. Merisa, for her part, had noted this and did not seem to mind.
There was a light wind blowing, enough that normal conversation wasn't easy, but that also covered up a subvocal BlackTalk conversation quite well. Zyan went to real-time.
"Are you eyeing up my cousin?" He asked.
"Might be. She's a pretty girl. It's not against the law. She's got some fairly serious competition right now though. I wonder if your royal aunt would lend me a couple of her oarsmen for an hour or so?" Shara replied, and grinned sideways at him.
"Can we focus?" Zyan asked, frowning.
"I would so be laughing at you right now if I could. You are such a prude, it's almost a disability. Did transition do this to you or were you always this uptight?" Shara sent back.
Zyan didn't dignify that with a reply. "You've changed your tune a bit since landing," was what he said.
"Yeah, okay, that was a bit shardy of me, whatever. It's all good now, though," Shara said.
"Because my pretty cousin is twirling her hair and looking at you?" Zyan asked sarcastically.
"Not exactly. I've reconciled myself to the direct approach to getting transport instead."
"Which is?"
"We kidnap your cousin and force the Queen to lend us the royal yacht."
Zyan actually said "What?!" out loud at this.
"Sorry, Zyan?" Merisa asked him, distracted from her reciprocal study of Shara's face and figure.
"Um, what's that building over there?" He pointed to a random tall structure on the riverside.
"That? Oh, that's the main government building. My office is there – to be honest there isn't really enough space, but we love the old place so we make do," Merisa replied.
"Okay, thanks," Zyan smiled and nodded, then returned to his conversation with Shara. "Are you sharding serious?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures. In fact, we really ought to act before we're surrounded by security. I'll get my knives out and deal with these eight muscleheads, you grab the girl, think you can manage that part? We go in three, two, and you should really see the expression on your face. Smile politely or your cousin will think you're not enjoying the boat ride. Again, I would so be laughing right now."
"You are such a sharding pain in the fardles, do you know that?" Zyan sent back, arranging a smile on his face so forced that Merisa would later tell him that she hadn't known he hated boats and felt really bad about making him go on one.
Shara looked at him sideways with a tight grin. "Gotcha."
"Cow."
"Moo."
"Seriously."
"Oh, give over. I've calmed down and thought, and we have options. We can make nice with your long-lost family and ask to borrow an FTL shuttle, then find an excuse to ditch the pilot and take it where we want to go," Shara said.
"Oh, you know how to operate an FTL shuttle, do you?" Zyan asked sarcastically.
"You do, so stop being so negative. We can buy an FTL shuttle, for that matter. You've got spacer qualifications, so it'll even be legal. It'll be expensive, but fortunately that's not an insurmountable problem for us right now, and Alenda's worth it. We file a fake flight plan saying we're going to tool about out in the asteroid belts or whatever, and we're home free," Shara said.
Zyan had genuinely not thought of this. It would mean a delay, true, but was probably a workable alternative.
"Could just steal one, for that matter," she added.
"We're leaving that as an alternative of last resort only just above kidnapping Merisa," Zyan stated, as categorically as he could when muttering secretly.
Shara said nothing for a moment, until: "So that's still an option, then. Good. I thought you were going soft."
Zyan didn't know whether she was serious or not, this time.
The River Palace wasn't, thankfully, some sort of gaudy fake castle but just a large compound of several buildings, many of which had merged into each other over the years of occupation by Maxim's matriarchs. They met the Queen herself on the steps of the main one, without excessive pomp – in fact she was sitting on said steps sipping a glass of wine, barefoot, and stood up with a smile as they followed Merisa over to her. She did have a pair of attendants with her, though, a woman in a hooded robe, who was holding a tray with a bottle and a man in similar garb, who held one with another three glasses.
Zyan's current mental template for regal female authority figures was, of course, the Crystal Singer, but Sunita Jarvis measured up quite well. She was, like her daughter, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with light coffee-coloured skin. She had an easy way about her, but the hint of authority was always there, too. Maxim might be a pleasure planet, but it was a planet nonetheless, and you didn't manage as the administrative head of one without knowing how to get stuff done.
Maxim's royals were, it seemed, a fairly informal lot: "Hey mom," Merisa greeted her. "This is Shara, the shiny floating guy is Brendan, the brain of the BX Are We There Yet?, and this is our cousin Zyan. Guys, this is mom, Sunita Jarvis, Queen of Maxim."
"Welcome to Maxim, everyone," the Queen greeted them, and handed out glasses of wine from the tray as she did so. "A pleasure to meet you all."
"Cousin," she said to Zyan, with an unexpected hug. "It's so nice to meet you. There was a plan to get in touch, of course, I believe we were planning on sending a message to your Guildmaster in the next month or so, to ask that you be released from your duties for a visit, but we're really pleased you've turned up unexpectedly and made that unnecessary."
Zyan inclined his head in response. "Thank you your, um, Majesty. That's what I call you, right?"
The Queen smiled. "Dear boy. No, Sunita will do just fine. We don't stand on ceremony on Maxim – it's almost written into the constitution. I hope you and Shara will enjoy your visit. Many crystal singers who visit here do so as couples."
Shara gave vent to a laugh that wasn't quite derisive. Zyan blushed.
"Shards, we're not together!" He said. "Well, I mean we're obviously together, but not like together-together. She's just my friend. But also my partner. But not like a partner in the sense that, shards, I mean she's not just a friend, she's a really close friend, but not like a close-close friend, just a really, she's more like a, um-"
"I'm his care worker," Shara interjected. Merisa giggled.
Zyan rallied and got his shards together. "Shara is a very good friend. We're in the same syndicate, which is like partners but there's lots of us. New way of doing things, on Ballybran," Zyan explained.
"I had heard rumours of changes in the Guild," Sunita replied, gracefully glossing over Zyan's gabbling.
"His fault – when he's not making a fool of himself in front of planetary leaders he can actually come up with good ideas once in a while," Shara put in.
"And of course both of you were instrumental in bringing about the Chalician Reforms," Sunita remarked.
"Well, I was on planet at the time, that's how I met Shara," Zyan said, with a slight shrug. This wasn't something he wanted at the forefront of any conversation.
"My dear cousin, I do get intelligence briefings," Sunita told him. "Do not get me wrong – I had a great deal of sympathy for the Djielese cause and for Chalician reformation, and I could not be happier that those pickpockets in the comms industry have been delivered a slap on the wrist that will, I hope, keep them from being too rapacious for several years to come. I really am delighted you're here, having wanted to meet you for some time. However, for the record: you are on holiday and not on any official business?"
"We are definitely not on official business," Zyan answered guardedly.
"Lars Dahl can be such a rascal when he puts his mind to it: are you on any unofficial business? Business that might require the selection of sharp and pointy things Shara is carrying in her bag?"
Zyan realised he'd badly misjudged the Queen.
"The shuttle is equipped with security scanners," Merisa informed them. "We are an open, carefree people on Maxim, dedicated to helping everyone enjoy themselves: but we are not stupid."
"The Guildmaster hasn't commissioned us to do anything," Shara replied. "I like archery and knife throwing, it's my hobby."
"My dear, I don't doubt you're very accomplished at both, but they are hardly a hobby for a former Chalician People's Front operative," the Queen said.
Shara sighed. "Told you we should've made a move on the boat," she subvocalised to Zyan, then turned back to the Queen. "We can assume we're covered by armed security?"
"That would certainly be sensible," Merisa said, and reached down underneath her dress to produce a stun pistol, which she trained on Shara. "Keep your hands out of your bag, Shara, and we'll all be happier."
"Assignations Bureau?" Shara asked the woman.
Merisa gave her a thin smile. "Planetary Security. This pistol is configured on the assumption that it takes a lot of power to put a crystal singer down in one shot, by the way. I may have overdone it, and it would be a real shame to leave an ugly mark on something so beautiful."
"Your cousin is so hot right now," Shara subvocalised. Zyan rolled his eyes.
"Now now Merisa, there's no need for that kind of talk. Shara is a friend of the family, after all," the Queen said. "My daughter is sometimes a little difficult to restrain," she confided to Zyan.
"I can sympathise," Zyan replied, with a look at Shara. "What do you want, your Majesty?"
"Answers, dear. You really are family, and family should be honest with each other. Why are you here?"
Zyan's mind was running at 110% trying to figure out if this was just the Queen doing due diligence when two singers with shady pasts turned up unannounced, or if she had some inkling that something was afoot, or had been tipped off somehow. Shara beat him to it, though.
"You can ask Agent Moran or Agent Saito that question, Sunita," she said. "They're stood right behind you. Brendan may have an idea, too – he brought all of us here, after all."
"Okay, I'm officially impressed, CS Ferozacorazon," the male attendant said, pushing his hood back and putting down his tray. The female attendant also removed her hood – they were indeed Moran and Saito, looking tired, pale and drawn, but it was definitely them: and they too had sidearms, currently pointed at the ground but certainly open to re-pointing somewhere less safe. "Your file said you were good."
"Sometimes you can believe everything you read," Shara said, with a shrug, and finished her wine. She held out the glass. "Bren, be a dear, would you? Now that Agent Saito has switched back from a career in waitressing there's no-one else to pour the wine."
Brendan's drone whirred around to retrieve the bottle. "Sorry," he said, as went past. "I didn't enjoy deceiving the pair of you."
"Oh, don't worry, you didn't: not for very long," Shara informed him icily.
"How long have you known?" Saito asked.
"Since Opal," Shara told the Exigency agent, with a glare.
Zyan was willing to bet she'd only just clicked to it, but kept silent. He didn't dare use the black crystal earbud to check, right now, but the reason for their extended journey from ship to palace was now clear: it had allowed Moran and Saito to beat them here. He thought fast: there was no reason to assume they knew this visit to Maxim was anything more than a last-minute impulse decision to go and have some fun rather than head back to the Guild. They might yet bluff their way out of this.
"Shara, when Bren refills your glass don't try and grab the bottle from him and do something violently dramatic like you're totally planning to do," Zyan said, as the drone approached with the wine.
"I was not!" Shara protested.
"Yeah you were, you were doing your imminent violence face," he said.
"I do not have an imminent violence face," Shara protested.
Zyan just stared at her and said nothing.
"Oh fine, I'll behave," she said, with a slight pout. "Someone refill this glass, though."
Zyan looked at Moran and Saito, but addressed the Queen. "Right, listen up, what we've got here is a case of someone putting two and two together and coming up with fifteen million. I've been warned off causing any trouble, and since Shara is also known within the Guild as a direct-action type of girl, the Guild sent us both off-world to keep us out of mischief. I don't like being put on the bench, though, so I figured I'd burn up a big wadge of credit in the galaxy's premier forgetting-about-your-problems destination until you guys either did what you promised you'd do and brought Alenda back home safe and sound or saw some sharding sense and decided to take me up on my offer of help," Zyan said, putting as much weariness into his voice as he could muster.
"Hmm," the Queen said. "Shara?"
"Seriously, does it matter at this point? I just want to know if we'll have access to a bar when you put us under house arrest."
"Shara," Zyan said.
Shara rolled her eyes and expelled her breath in irritation. "Yes, it's a spur of the moment jolly. I've been on at him to sharding get over his last relationship for what seems like forever, might've known when he finally takes a step in the right direction the universe would step in and ruin it," Shara said, in a martyred tone. It was well done: she'd evidently been paying attention when Shecherzia employed it.
The Queen looked at the two Exigency agents with an inquiring look.
"I'm sorry, your Majesty, but I think we'll have to take them both into custody nevertheless," Moran said. "Jarvis and Ferozacorazon may or may not be telling the truth – it is hard to determine."
"They are FSP citizens, Agent Moran, and my guests. Zyan is, in reality, a member of my own family, however distantly we may be related," the Queen told the man. "Nobody is being taken into custody. Do I make myself understood?"
Zyan wouldn't want to be the one who had to argue with her level and determined tone, and was more than happy to see Moran looking distinctly uncomfortable as well as physically unwell: he wasn't sure why, until he remembered that the agents had endured the same series of singularity jumps as Shara and he had, and without the benefit of a helpful spore to aid in their recovery. It must have been gruelling for them, and-
"You don't know where she is," he said, as he realised why they'd put themselves through the journey.
There was another moment of silence.
"Well, this is awkward," Shara said.
Moran's look of discomfort increased, although Saito had her FSP mask more fully in place.
"You've lost her. That's why you were on Ballybran – not to interview me about her, but to make me think she was in trouble so I'd go after her and you could follow me," Zyan said, thinking out loud.
"Lost who?" The Queen asked.
"This is a conversation best had in private, CS Jarvis," Saito said. "Your Majesty, do you have a shielded room in which we can speak to CS Jarvis alone?"
"Yes, but you won't be using it," the Queen replied. "There are quite enough secrets already. Keep going, Zyan."
It was Shara that picked up the thread, though. "You arranged to have a B&B ship on hand with a previous association with the Guild – Brendan. You were betting that CS Ree and the Guildmaster would make use of him to send Zyan after Alenda."
"Ah – Alenda Falkstrom," the Queen nodded. "The Guild's top lawyer and Lars Dahl's right hand woman."
"And niece," her daughter said.
Brendan addressed Shara, and shook his body in a negative gesture. "My involvement isn't as direct as that, Shara – I was hanging around Ballybran because of the Opal assignment, that much is true. Agents Moran and Saito merely took advantage of that fact, and have the authority to compel me to assist them. They are senior federal agents and I am an FSP vessel," he said, apologetically.
"Okay, but still, you could have just asked if she'd told me where she was going," Zyan said.
"And you would have happily told us?" Moran retorted with heavy sarcasm, and he appeared to also be shaking, now, with either fatigue or rage.
"I offered you my help, shardbrain," Zyan told him.
"The matter is of the highest secrecy," Moran said defensively, lip twitching. "I was not about to invite random civilians along."
Saito's mask had now slipped also, but she was looking at Moran with surprise, not at Zyan with anger.
"You didn't even try," Zyan told him. "All it would've taken was 'we've lost your Chief of Legal, we don't know where she is, but if you can tell us then we can help her'. But you decided not to take that chance. You wanted to know without me knowing you knew, no, wait-" Zyan paused. "Your plan was to follow us, which means you'd at least accepted the risk of me knowing you knew. You didn't want the Guild to know."
Saito's expression was now one of pain, and she backed away from Moran, with a hand over her eyes as if she was looking at something painfully bright.
"Patrick, what's wrong, your feelings are-" Saito said.
Moran gave vent to a low cry.
"Zyan, he's got a pulser, not a stun pistol," Shara warned.
"Agent Moran, are you unwell?" The Queen had also moved away from Moran – Merisa moved decisively towards her mother, having evidently re-run her threat analysis and slotted Moran in above Zyan and Shara.
"Moran, put the gun down." It was Saito that spoke, as if she was in physical pain herself. The male agent had raised his pistol, and it was weaving around, trained first on Saito, then Merisa, Zyan, Shara, the Queen: and then himself. He then repeated the sequence again.
"But you can't kill Brendan," Zyan said, abruptly realising what the weird gun movements meant, if not why he was doing it. Moran meant to eliminate witnesses, and then kill himself. "This is pointless, Moran, Brendan's linked to his brain in orbit. All this is already recorded. This is a no win situation, for you, give it up."
"Tomiko, I'm sorry!" Moran nearly shrieked, staggering backwards, and falling down onto his behind on the steps.
Moran's gun was currently trained on the Queen, and Merisa wasn't going to be able to get her out of the way in time.
"Everybody down!" Zyan shouted, and hurled himself between Moran and the two Maximese women.
He felt a hard pressure on his back, and a bizarre tingling sensation. He was pushed suddenly off course, crashing into the Queen and her daughter rather than standing in front of them as he'd intended. He heard the whine of Moran's pulser, Shara cursing, the whirr of Brendan's anti-gravs peaking suddenly, a thud. Moran stopped shrieking, then there was the tinkle of broken glass.
He couldn't see anything but the steps underneath him as he landed. A moment later there was the harsh buzz of a stunner.
"Confirmed shooter is down," Merisa said, evidently into a comm. "Agent Saito, drop your weapon. Do it now. Shara, amazing throw, now help Zyan. Security and a med team to the main courtyard, now!"
"What? Who'd he get?" Zyan asked, trying to get up. His left arm wasn't working for some reason and his back felt funny. It felt warm and wet.
Shara appeared at his side. "You, you idiot! Don't try and move."
"I'm fine, stop fussing," Zyan said, pushing himself up with his right arm and then trying to feel his back with it. It came away wet with blood.
"Zyan!" The Queen exclaimed.
"Oh, hey. You're okay. Good. I wasn't entirely honest about this being a holiday, your Majesty, I'm really sorry," Zyan told her.
"Zyan, lie still or I will knock you the shard out so you can't move," Shara growled at him.
"What? Why?"
"You've been shot, you complete moron!" Shara shouted.
"Oh," Zyan said, surprised. "Figures, I suppose. Can't be too bad, it doesn't hurt."
"I can literally see your spinal column and there's a chunk of rib missing," Shara informed him. "So keep still."
"Oh dear," the Queen said, abandoning an attempt to stand up.
"Med team is inbound, ETA two minutes," Merisa said, then spoke into a comm again. "Somebody get a medkit here, now."
"I do feel a bit light-headed," Zyan admitted, similarly abandoning his own attempts at uprightness.
"I'm not surprised, half of your blood is on the steps," Shara informed him. She was doing something to his wound, putting pressure on it.
"Oh shards, really?" Zyan said, again faintly surprised, but finding himself oddly calm. Perhaps it was the symbiont. "I'd best say a few things, in that case. Find Alenda and tell her I love her. Tell her to go and see Sentinel – that's very important. And you, I-"
"I know," Shara said. "Me too. Don't get dead. Hear me?"
"I wouldn't dare," Zyan said, with a smile. "You'd kill me."
"And don't you forget it," Shara told him.
- o O o -
He didn't get dead, but he was two days in hospital, in and out of consciousness (the spore's doing, not the hospital's ineffective drugs). There were guards in his room, he vaguely noticed – and Shara. The doctors made a tremendous protest when he announced, on the third morning, that he was leaving. He told them to do another scan, and Shara waved her Guild ID around to make them comply. They did the scan – his foreshortened rib was found to be whole, and there was no trace of other damage save for three scars where Moran's pulse rounds had pierced his flesh.
"You must've thought it was worse than it was," Zyan told them.
"He was wearing his Guild issue work jacket – those things are designed to keep out spican quartz shards, they're going to do quite well against pulser rounds too. Lucky escape, etcetera, now someone go bring him his clothes," Shara said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
The doctors left. Shara hugged him so tight that he could swear it was almost painful.
"Don't do that to me again, shard for brains, okay? You had me worried," Shara told him, when she let go. "Also, if you tell anyone I hugged you or told you I was anything but breezily indifferent to your plight, I will make a pulse burst in the back seem like a pleasant massage in comparison, understood? I have a reputation to maintain."
"Deal," Zyan said.
"Also I'm having a kind of holiday thing with your cousin now," Shara informed him.
"I figured that was in the offing, Shara, though you do realise this is not a holiday, right?" Zyan asked her.
"Nonsense. There's spies, betrayals, secrets, some reasonably interesting violence and now I'm having an affair with a beautiful princess – it's just the best time. Thanks for inviting me along," Shara grinned.
"The pulser burst in the back kinda put a downer on it for me," Zyan told her.
Shara made a dismissive wave. "Pah, it's been obvious since like an hour after you got here that you were going to be fine. I'd've been utterly bored out of my mind if Merisa hadn't arranged for us to use the adjoining room," she said, indicating the door to the left of Zyan's bed.
"Okay, so literally as soon as I was out of the woods you've been cavorting with my cousin in the very next room," Zyan shook his head.
"Seemed a bit disrespectful to do it in here," Shara shrugged. "Also, I know you're still technically in hospital but your use of the word cavorting just now is not going to go away any time soon, you know that right?"
"Yeah, I figured that as soon as it left my mouth. Just don't tell Tornaz," Zyan said.
"There is absolutely no chance I'm not telling Tornaz, this is almost better than the crab thing," Shara giggled, then handed him something from a pocket. "Here, I managed to get this out of your ear after you dived heroically in front of the Maxim royal family."
The earbug. Zyan tucked it back in.
"Is this room secure?" He subvocalised as soon as it was in.
"Yes," Shara said out loud. "These are the rooms set aside for the royal family, guaranteed bug free, and FYI I've decided to trust Merisa so she knows what I know now anyway, as does auntie dearest,"
"Okay, fine," Zyan nodded in acceptance – they had little choice except to trust Merisa and the Queen, after all: about as much choice as he had in Shara referring to the Queen as 'auntie dearest', although he could choose not to rise to it, and resolved not to. "You know there's a time limit on whatever you have with Merisa, right?"
Shara nodded. "I probably paid more attention in full disclosure than you did, so you can cut the concerned older relative act," she said firmly.
"My bad, sorry. Bring me up to speed."
"Right, so you took a burst in the back for Merisa and the Queen. I disobeyed your orders and did do something violent with the wine bottle – I threw it underhand into Moran's face and knocked him flat, which was really quite amazingly cool, even if I do say so myself," Shara said, miming the throwing of the bottle again.
"I did wonder what she meant by 'amazing throw'," Zyan admitted.
"She meant it was an amazing throw, which it was. She's all about the compliments, is your cousin. Amazing this, unbelievable that, almost unbearably good other thing-"
"Yes, okay, thank you, I get the picture," Zyan cut her off.
Shara gave him an evil smirk, then continued. "Anyway, Merisa put a stun bolt into him – she wasn't lying about her piece being juiced up for our benefit, that thing did leave a nasty mark – and now he's in a coma. We don't know why the hell he did what he did, but Saito said to leave him under so in a coma is where he's staying, for now. That's about all she's said: she's under not entirely voluntary protective custody in the Palace, and after showing some actual emotion for maybe five whole minutes when Moran went crazy she's gone full impassive Fed again, and will only talk to demand she be allowed to contact Exigency. The Queen isn't having it and has kept this whole thing under wraps, in system and out, although I don't know how much longer she can manage that – Saito did access Maxim's black crystal comms before Moran flipped out, so presumably their presence here is known, but so far we've heard nothing from Exigency,"
"Long may that continue," Zyan nodded.
"Auntie dearest was okay with me contacting the Guild, though – we're flavour of the month, now you've done the hero thing – so the Guildmaster and the Crystal Singer know what's happened. She responded to say she's glad you're not dead, we're probably in a whole lot of trouble, and they're going to hit the FSP with a diplomatic smart torpedo to try and shake something loose. Until and unless that works they can't officially task us with retrieving Alenda on behalf of the Guild, so basically we're still on our own although Merisa says she's not only happy but positively ecstatic about Maxim Planetary Security providing as much clandestine support as they can. Brendan is still in orbit, with a Maxim customs cutter keeping a close eye on him – he seems genuinely sorry about what he did, and I've forgiven him, it's not like he had a choice with Exigency pulling his strings. He's offered to take us anywhere we want, even if it lands him in trouble, but although I've forgiven him I'm still not 100% on whether we can trust him or not, especially given whatever happened to Moran, which has freaked me the shard out, by the way, big time," Shara finished.
"You're not the only one," Zyan said. "As soon we twigged that he and Saito were tailing us, he started acting strange. I thought it was just stress and singularity shakes to begin with, but then Saito recoils away from him like he's on fire and it almost looked like he was fighting with the gun, trying to keep from firing – if he wanted us all dead he just needed to pull the trigger a little bit earlier."
"You're saying he was being controlled somehow?" Shara asked.
Zyan went cold, and it wasn't just the thin hospital gown he was wearing.
"Othello once played with the idea of using post-hypnotic suggestion to get Octo agents to flip for us, but it was a non-starter," Shara mused. "Suggestions or mental blocks require that the subject is co-operative."
Alenda wouldn't have that problem, Zyan thought, and hated himself for even thinking it.
"Maybe Saito could tell us more, but she isn't talking," Shara finished.
What if this power turned me into a monster? Zyan remembered Alenda's own words – words that she had then blocked from his memory.
"Hey, you gone into thrall there?" Shara waved a hand in front of his face.
"No," Zyan said. "Just...thinking. Is that everything?"
"Yes – except that auntie dearest is very much on our side and very distressed that she acceded to Exigency's demands for assistance, and then this happened to her nephew on her turf. You'd think it was her that'd shot you and not Moran. Expect hugs and mothering," Shara advised him.
Zyan nodded. "I need to talk to Saito, and Moran," he said.
"He's doing an impression of an inert rock, and frankly she isn't much more responsive," Shara reminded him.
"Then we need to wake them both up," Zyan insisted, almost in a snarl. "What the shard is taking so long? Are they stitching my clothes together out there?" He got up, and went to the door the doctors had left through.
"Easy, tiger," Shara said. "They'll be here soon, I'm sure."
Merisa – in her planetary security uniform - turned up a few moments later with clothes for him, including his jacket, cleaned and repaired. Zyan couldn't get dressed quickly enough. He wanted answers.
- o O o -
There were no answers forthcoming from Moran, who was in the very same hospital.
Maxim City had one of the best neurology departments in the galaxy, because idiots.
Humans being humans, there would always be some people who wanted to push the limits of any given leisure pursuit to the very edge of advisability and then beyond – and pleasure booths were no exception. The official establishments had various safety protocols in place to ensure that extremes of pleasure and pain were kept to levels the human brain could cope with, but there was never a shortage of people willing to pay extra for these to be disabled, and sadly also not a shortage of questionable operators willing to oblige. Penalties for running a booth with the safeties off were severe, but the payoff could be handsome, too. With depressing regularity, a punter would run a program that fried his or her brain, and Maxim City General Hospital's neuro trauma ward would receive another patient.
Lucky for Moran: he was in the right place at the right time to have a severe neurological event. Looking at him, though, 'lucky' didn't seem like the correct word to describe him. He floated in a radiant tank, hooked up to various bits of medical kit that Zyan had never seen before, wearing what the Chief of Neurology called a fool's crown: a thick semicircular metallic device that covered most of his head, monitored his brain functions and could even intervene in them if necessary: Zyan could feel the tingle of black crystal from it.
"Despite the almost unprecedented level of trauma, in time, he will recover," Dr. Kelaz said. She was a very tall, very dark skinned woman – evidently from a low grav planet, as she wore an unobtrusive antigrav frame. She was the uncontested galaxy-wide expert in brain trauma across several species. Even Zyan knew this without having to be told, as Donalla – who was also tasked with treating idiots who pushed their brains to their neurological limits – was something of a Dr-Kelaz-the-Neurological-Wonder-Doctor fangirl and would expound upon her professional idol's achievements in excruciating detail, given half a chance. Even without this foreknowledge, though, Zyan would have believed her every word, as she positively radiated calm competence.
"We have taken the unconventional step of suspending all but the most basic of functions, to prevent his brain from compounding the existing damage, and to enable healing. With the exception of a few autonomic routines, Agent Moran is essentially on pause while he recovers. It will be a great deal of time before we can even start to think about bringing him back up to something approaching consciousness, I'm afraid," the doctor informed them.
"Could you provide a more exact estimate, Doctor?" Merisa asked.
Dr Kelaz shook her head. "Months, not weeks," was all she would commit to.
That closed the door on interviewing Moran – Alenda didn't have months to spare. Merisa led Zyan and Shara – the latter by the hand – to an official aircar, which would take them to the River Palace.
"I want to see Saito next," Zyan said.
"Of course," Merisa replied. "Do me a favour, though?"
Zyan looked at her quizzicially.
"See mother first," Merisa said. "My comm is filling up with messages asking if you're okay."
"Told you," Shara said.
- o O o -
Zyan had found a cold, hard core somewhere inside himself – a relic of the Djielese conflict, like a bunker which had stood empty for a while but was still standing - and had retreated into it. Information could get in and speech could get out, but there was a total embargo on emotion.
Zyan tolerated Sunita's – to be fair, very real – concern over his well being, and, as warned, a goodly number of hugs and a fair amount of mothering. He assured her, blank faced, that he was fine. She made it clear that she felt personally responsible for his being shot, and that she owed him her life and her daughter's. Maxim could not publicly defy the FSP, but he could count on whatever covert support they could provide. Merisa had shelved all of her other responsibilities and would be working on nothing else.
"Number one on my list is to talk to Saito, Your Majesty," Zyan stated simply.
His manner clearly had her worried, but she acceded to his request. Merisa led them deep into the River Palace's warren of guest accomodation – past several guards – and up to a guarded and locked door.
"She's in here," Merisa said. "She's officially a guest of the crown, unofficially she's been told she's going nowhere, officially-unofficially we've probably only got a day at most before we have to tell the FSP something and can still use an apparent attack on the royal family by an FSP agent as an excuse for keeping things hush-hush so far. We'll have to release her quite soon, and when she does, she'll contact her superiors again."
"Understood," Zyan said.
"She's said absolutely nothing of any import whatsoever apart from asking after her partner and demanding access to our black crystal comms node. She's done nothing apart from sleep, eat the meals provided and watch the news net every now and again," Merisa informed him. "The rest of the time she meditates or does kata."
"Amateur," Shara sniffed. "She hasn't even raided the bar. Wait, do I have a bar? I'd've checked but I haven't needed to use my own bedroom yet."
She smirked and shot a smouldering look at Merisa. Merisa smiled in return.
"What did she watch?" Zyan asked, ignoring Shara.
"Just the news cycle summary, she hasn't retrieved any specifics on anything," Merisa answered.
No clues there. "Self contained unit," Zyan said.
"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Merisa agreed.
Zyan opened the door and walked in, not bothering to knock. Saito looked up from a cross-legged posture in the middle of the spacious suite she'd been provided (and confined to), then stood, unhurriedly. "CS Jarvis – it is a relief to see you have recovered. The incident on the palace steps was regrettable."
She delivered this in a deadpan, neutral tone that conveyed neither relief nor regret.
"Duly acknowledged, I kinda regretted getting shot in the back by your partner too," Zyan said acidly. "Tell me what I need to know to go after Alenda. I'm guessing, being as how you're empathic and all, you can tell how very, very angry I am right now, so it wouldn't be a good idea to disappoint me."
"I can tell you no more now than I could on Ballybran, CS Jarvis," Saito replied. "Apart from to remind you that entering a lady's quarters unannounced is a Privacy violation, as well as just plain rude. I am not rude, however, so please, sit," she indicated a sofa.
"I'll stand," Zyan said.
Saito inclined her head millimetrically in response. Her face was set in impassive Fed mode, giving nothing away. "The best thing you can do for Senior Counsel Falkstrom is to release me from this confinement, tell me everything you know, and allow me to use Maxim's black crystal comms node."
"No dice, Saito," Zyan said. "Start talking, or you may not like what comes after."
"You're an experienced guerilla warrior, CS Jarvis, but I'm not worried for my safety, because you are not needlessly violent," Saito replied.
Shara coughed. "He can outsource that very easily indeed," she said flatly, producing a knife from somewhere and twirling it expertly round her fingers.
Saito's expression didn't change in the slightest. "Your reputation speaks for itself, CS Ferozacorazon. I have no doubt you'd inflict pain if you felt it was necessary to help your friend – but it won't help you achieve anything except arrest, conviction for assault and a very long custodial sentence. Sentences for very serious crimes are meted out as percentages of expected lifetime, so in your case that would be a very long time indeed."
"Maybe you won't be around to report anything. Maybe Moran managed to shoot his partner before he took a shot at a crystal singer and the royal family of an FSP member planet," Shara told the woman. "I never did get the chance to cover up a murder in the CPF, and I have to admit I'm curious."
"Inspector Jarvis, CS Ferozacorazon would appear to be making threats. Am I safe here?" Saito addressed Merisa.
"The attack on her partner has no doubt angered and upset CS Ferozacorazon, so her words are – to me – entirely understandable. You are, however, under the protection of Maxim," Merisa replied, diplomatically. "But I'd advise you to co-operate nonetheless. As I've said before, our report to the FSP can be written to emphasise your helpfulness despite being a fellow victim, or your utter indifference to an attack on the royal family carried out by your own partner. If we call for your head, we will get it."
"I'm to be decapitated now?" Saito raised an eyebrow.
"An unfortunate choice of words," said Merisa, in a tone that suggested she thought it was nothing of the sort. "It is, of course, your career that will be cut short. You can add in a private prosecution as a chaser, too: I for one find it hard to believe that Moran could plan an assassination attempt alone. If you don't like that story, then change it: talk to CS Jarvis off the record, and our official report to the FSP will use phrases such as 'helpful and professional while adhering to her orders as regards secrecy' instead of 'recommend immediate investigation as an accomplice'."
"Well, that outlines two different outcomes," Zyan said. "What I actually meant was that whether or not you tell me anything, my next move is to go after Alenda, and unless you give me something now, I will be going in hard. Guns blazing, the hell with the consequences, anyone and anything in my way will be history. It'll be noisy and I'm betting that'll mean worse things for your job security than anything my cousin can manage alone."
"Now that is a more realistic threat. Black Zyan rides again – all too believable," Saito said.
"It's more of what you might call a statement of fact. If you still want in on this op, this is your chance to have some input. A case could even be made for you coming along," Zyan dangled the bait.
"I cannot tell you anything," Saito replied simply. "For the record I will say it again: if you want to do the right thing for Alenda Falkstrom, you will share any information you have regarding her whereabouts with me and grant me access to offworld communications."
"Given that it was an Exigency agent that nearly succeeded in killing everyone in this room – yourself included - how about no? Let's try something more specific: who is the one-eyed man?" Zyan asked.
"The one-eyed man? You're getting ever so slightly melodramatic, CS Jarvis," Saito replied, with a very slight allowance of sarcasm.
"Moran's scar-faced mate: older, grey hair in a ponytail, cybernetic left eye," Zyan reminded her.
Saito had, so far, demonstrated about as much emotion as a crystal face, but at Zyan's description she involuntarily paled and, even though it was frosted plasglas, tried to look out the window. "He's here?" She asked, with a look of consternation and fear.
Well, that was an interesting reaction. "And if he is?" Zyan asked.
"Kill him!" Saito said without hesitation, and indeed with a hint of desperation. "Do not approach him, do not try to arrest him, do not try to reason with him or threaten him or give him any kind of warning. Take him out from as far away as you can, and make sure of it," she said emphatically.
Merisa and Zyan were both taken aback by Saito's forceful declaration – even Shara was slightly surprised.
"Isn't the FSP all about due process?" She asked. "Shoot on sight is a bit extreme."
"No," Saito told her. "Extreme is what will happen if you miss."
"Why – what makes him so dangerous? And does he have Alenda?" Zyan asked.
Saito went as far as to open her mouth, then closed it. "I cannot tell you," she said, "but please heed my warning. If you won't do it yourselves, give me a pulser with a telescopic sight and I will take care of it."
"You're not even getting a butter knife, Agent Saito," Merisa stated, matter-of-factly.
"I'm calling dibs on any sniping, anyway," Shara put in.
"When you say 'cannot', you really mean it, don't you?" Zyan asked her, following a flash of inspiration as he put together Saito's behaviour with what Shara had said earlier about Othello's experiments with hypnosis: mental blocks required consent. "You've fixed it so you just can't talk about your assignment even if you want to. All you've let yourself do is issue a kill order for the one-eyed man if the chance comes up."
Saito was terrified of the one-eyed man, and Zyan's first reaction was to feel relief: he was the bad guy here, not Alenda. This realisation was followed quickly by renewed fear for her, though – what if she had been kidnapped by the dangerous man, who wasn't even supposed to be approached, for a reason so terrifying that Saito had stopped herself from revealing it to anyone?
And, as his mind whirred, Zyan had a gloomy idea what that reason might be. He looked down, then up again at Saito. As understanding dawned, he felt himself go cold all over, and his expression must have changed. Saito saw him suddenly click to what he was facing, and although she didn't say anything or nod, she couldn't prevent a slight widening of her eyes. That was all the confirmation he needed.
"Oh, shards," he couldn't stop himself from saying.
"What, Zyan?" Shara asked.
"Are there any countermeasures?" Zyan asked Saito.
Saito's expression changed again – was there a faint tinge of hope, there?
"Countermeasures against what?" Merisa asked, confused.
"I will speak to CS Jarvis – alone. No guarantees. My personal effects contain a jammer, that I-" Saito started.
"Got you covered," Zyan said, reaching into his jacket for the jammer – but it wasn't there.
"Here," Shara said, handing it to him. "Took it out of your jacket before the medics found it."
"Is it effective?" Saito asked.
"It was designed by the best," Zyan told her. "Any monitoring devices installed in this room by the Maxim government will not work. No offence, cousin."
"None taken," Merisa replied.
"Very well," Saito nodded.
"You sure you want to do this alone?" Shara asked.
Zyan nodded.
"We'll wait for you in Shara's quarters – the guards will direct you when you're done," Merisa said.
Shara turned to follow Merisa from the room, but paused in the doorway. "Anything nasty happens to him, this one-eyed ghost'll be the least of your problems," she said, before leaving. The door slid shut behind them. Zyan held the jammer up, and turned it on so she could see he'd done it.
"I think you've got something that I need to hear," Saito said.
"He can control people, can't he?" Zyan asked. "He can make people do what he wants them to. He programmed Moran to go into full psycho mode and clean up any loose ends if it looked like someone was onto his location, and he did it right under your nose."
Saito's expression changed suddenly. "Congratulations, CS Jarvis. I expected CS Ferozacorazon to figure it out, if either of you did."
"I hear that a lot, seems like," Zyan replied.
"Your protege is very intelligent, CS Jarvis. Before she joined the Heptite Guild, she was earmarked for recruitment by the Sensitive Exigencies Branch. She has an unique skill set, as you have no doubt noticed," Saito told him, then looked upward, as if thinking of something. "Ah, pride, and is that a little flash of resentment? Don't feel too bad – we're all only human, after all."
Zyan started running his mental count, to try and keep his emotions private. She was good – he had indeed experienced a flash of pride at hearing his friend being complimented: and then remembered that he hadn't got an invite to join the club when he left Djiel. Not that he would have accepted, and he doubted Shara would have either: the FSP hadn't exactly fallen over itself trying to reform Chalice, until the Guild had given them a hard push in that direction.
"Okay Agent Saito, I'll bite. How come I didn't come up in a list of likely Exigency cadets?" He asked. 1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4, he thought.
"You did, but you didn't make the shortlist. CS Ferozacorazon's profile indicates a core of loyalty, commitment to high ideals, but tempered with an, ahem, moral flexibility that makes her ideal for the situations we regularly face in the SEB. You have the first two, you don't have the third," Saito explained.
"I knew the FSP was as likely to resort to black ops as anyone else," Zyan replied.
"Guilty as charged – but we're on the same side, CS Jarvis. You'll want to be sitting down for this," Saito hinted, indicating the sofa. This time he complied, and she followed him.
"You're right in that I have had a mental block introduced, at my own request, and for my own protetction. It does permit me, however, to reveal extra information to anyone who deduces what is going on, if, in my judgement, it is better that they know rather than remain ignorant," Saito told him. "First, however, you need to swear an oath."
"There's a lot of that going around lately. Go on, then," Zyan replied.
"I, Zyan Jarvis, swear, aver and affirm I will not repeat any of what I am about to be told to anyone apart from individuals indicated to me by Agent Saito, under penalty of a minimum of eight percent of expected lifetime imprisonment. Repeat that," Saito instructed him.
Zyan did so.
Saito exhaled. "Thank you – it'll be a relief to actually share this with someone, if I'm being honest."
"Okay, stop teasing and give up the goods, Saito," Zyan growled.
"The FSP is currently facing an emergent situation under the Steeplejack Protocol. Steeplejack refers to the covert takeover of the FSP by an entity with telepathic powers, able to influence other sentient beings and bring them under it's control. Until a few weeks ago we thought Steeplejack was just blue-sky planning – an exercise in creative thinking, designed to generate ideas and inform our planning on other, more realistic threats. I never thought we'd actually implement it – and yet here we are. It calls for a small team of empathic SEB agents and outside contractors to take whatever action is necessary to neutralise the threat. The person you describe as the 'one-eyed man' is such a threat. He has the innate ability to read, and importantly control, other peoples' thoughts," Saito said.
Zyan realised he had to be very careful here. He was open to the idea of telepathy because he knew Alenda could do it – and he'd made the mental leap to figure out what the one-eyed man had done to Moran because of what Sentinel had revealed about her abilities, information she'd hidden from Zyan. However, he couldn't let Saito know that. He had to be circumspect as to the roots of his suspicions.
"Blimey," Zyan said, running his count and trying hard to put stunned disbelief into his voice and his thoughts. "I'd figured this would be down to some sort of mind-interface tech, probably based around black crystal."
"So did we, at first," Saito replied, and Zyan ruthlessly crushed both relief and hope that he'd glossed over that successfully. "The one-eyed man – we know him as Jan Anderssen – came to the SEB's central bureau on Regulus several weeks ago, claiming that he was the captain of a private salvage vessel which had discovered alien technology capable of controlling sentient thought. He brought with him a small, six-inch long cylinder – which he claimed was a non-working example of such a device. More worryingly, he claimed that his first mate had led a mutiny, stolen several similar devices, then absconded with the intention of selling them on the black market to the highest bidder."
"Hold on a minute," Zyan interrupted. "How does a total randomer just swan into Exigency's head office and demand to see the manager?"
"He started at a regular FSP Civil Service office on Hardesty, and then talked his way up the line, or so he claimed. True enough, I suppose – it must have been simple for him to 'persuade' each FSP bureaucrat or agent to refer him higher up the food chain, with free transport on the fastest FSP vessels thrown into the bargain," Saito explained.
"So the device was genuine?" Zyan asked.
"No," Saito shook her head. "The device was a Reticulan artifact – a harmless piece of communication technology, very old and very broken. Obscure but hardly dangerous - you could get one for a few credits in any antique shop on Reticula. It was a prop, alien enough to be plausible to a layperson, at least for as long as Anderssen needed to bring them under his control." Saito stopped, and looked up. "CS Ferozacorazon said there was a bar – I think it might be time to take her advice and raid it, you're looking a little shell-shocked, CS Jarvis," she suggested.
Drinks were duly got – Saito had water, Zyan discovered a bottle of Yarran, ignored it and poured himself a large Kachachurian scotch instead.
"His objective, I think, was to get himself close to someone in authority in the FSP who could shut down any co-ordinated response to his actions, or at least put him in a position to control them: and he succeeded. Our bureau chief invoked the Steeplejack Protocol, activated Moran and I, and assigned Anderssen to us as an 'expert witness'. Completely against protocol, but by that point Chief Narovic was, of course, totally compromised. The first action on the plan was to recruit an outside contractor, someone known to the SEB for a long time, a former FSP agent and empath, with an advantage that might have proved very useful indeed," Saito went on.
Alenda. "You led him right to her," Zyan said, with a dark scowl.
"Yes, we did. Not that this excuses me from any responsibility, but that was Moran," Saito said.
"I know – I saw him on Shankill with the one-eyed man – Anderssen," Zyan said. "How come you weren't there?"
"In what turned out to be a very fortunate coincidence, I was off planet when Anderssen made his appearance. By the time I was recalled, they'd already left for Ballybran. Moran returned a few days later, and reported that Anderssen had gone with Alenda as per 'the plan'. We didn't know what plan he was talking about, and that's when we started asking ourselves some questions and realised we'd been duped. It was I that suggested we try and pick up some clues from you, but Moran had a refinement: we knew you distrusted the FSP, would seek to take matters into your own hands, and may have information we did not possess. He suggested we tracked where you went," Saito told him.
"He was playing you," Zyan said. "He wasn't after answers, Anderssen was using him to tidy up loose ends. Moran, I assume, knew about Chalice. He must have told Anderssen that Alenda had friends who were former resistance fighters, police and ex-military too, and that she may have told them where she was going, even if Moran swore her to secrecy. And you should have known Moran couldn't be trusted, at this point."
Saito nodded in acceptance of that fact. "I knew, but what other move was there to make? Either Moran was free of Anderssen's conditioning, in which case following you was a good plan, or he wasn't, and following him was a good plan. It was at this point I chose to have a mental block put in place, by someone unconnected to the SEB. You asked if there were any countermeasures? The truth is I do not know, but hoped the block would prevent me from giving anything away to Anderssen, should I fall under his control."
"You should not have let Moran near civilians with a sharding pulse pistol, Saito," Zyan said darkly.
"Granted, and I apologise for that oversight: I did not know he had it – pulse weapons are not standard issue, even for SEB agents."
"You seemed surprised that Anderssen only had one eye," Zyan stated.
"I was – that must have happened after his initial visit to our central bureau: security footage shows him unscarred and with two natural eyes. Perhaps Moran did not succumb as easily as Anderssen might have wished," Saito said.
"Which is a hopeful thought," Zyan offered. Now that Saito was co-operating, he felt a little more charitable towards her.
"He did still succumb, though," Saito pointed out.
"Yeah – but maybe I can do a bit more damage than a slash across the eye, if I'm given a chance," Zyan stated.
Saito sighed. "CS Jarvis, my purpose in revealing what I have revealed to you is not to better equip you to go after Anderssen, but to persuade you that it is foolishness. We are talking about a man who walked unarmed into the headquarters of one of the most secure agencies in the entire galaxy, staffed with highly intelligent, highly motivated people whose commitment to the FSP has been proved beyond question. People specifically trained to deal with esoteric threats to galactic security, including several empaths. He walked calmly in and had them all doing his bidding within a matter of minutes, and they – we – did not realise we had been suborned until he'd disappeared without a trace. Moreover, he was able to condition Moran – whom I can assure you has a highly disciplined mind – so effectively that I could not detect any traces of it."
"Well, he hasn't dealt with crystal singers yet," Zyan averred.
"Perhaps not, but he's dealt with a Heptite Guildmember very effectively, CS Jarvis," Saito said. "Alenda Falkstrom is a legend in FSP intelligence circles. Fifty years on, some of her missions are still used to train new agents."
Fifty years. Zyan hadn't known by exactly how much Alenda was his senior – in the Guild it didn't matter – but he was still surprised.
"On top of that she survived something that should have killed her, built a new life for herself on Ballybran and acquired empathic powers. We're also aware that despite being medically blind she can see perfectly well."
"How do you know all this?" Zyan asked.
"Because, for all intents and purposes, she still works for FSP Intelligence," Saito said. "You know this. Yes, the FSP does make occasional use of crystal singers and other key Guild personnel, but Alenda Falkstrom comes back time and time again, and the people she works with are observant, and take notes. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, CS Jarvis."
"But why tell me?"
"To emphasise that Alenda is resourceful, almost frighteningly intelligent, ruthless when she has to be, deadly when she wishes to be, and possesses unquantifiable empathic gifts. She is, to put it simply, superhuman, and – forgive me for speaking insensitively – Anderssen has either turned her, kidnapped her or killed her. If he had not, she would already have delivered his head to the SEB and be back on Ballybran," Saito said intently.
Well, that was blunt enough.
"So if she couldn't deal with him, what hope do I have, is that what you're saying?" Zyan asked.
"Sorry, but yes," Saito nodded.
Zyan's traitorous mind was adding a fourth possible outcome to Saito's list of possibilities: what if she'd found a kindred spirit in Anderssen? The only other person with power like hers – the only other person in the galaxy who might understand what she faced on a daily basis. Someone who might be able to teach her what she needed to know to control her own power, and thus keep her from becoming the monster she feared she might turn into.
He remembered her words before she'd locked his memories away from him on Shankill: I may be able to learn something – it's a small chance, but now I have something to cling on to. She'd spoken those words after meeting Anderssen – for all Zyan knew, he'd explicitly made her such an offer, and she had accepted.
There need not even be any ill intention behind an arrangement with Anderssen: she may have concluded – not unreasonably – that the only way to manage a threat such as him was to work with him and bring him slowly around to a better use of his talents. It was anyone's guess, though, who would end up persuading who in that situation.
But Zyan loved without judgement. That was who he was.
"Saito, I don't think you've understood why I'm here," he told her. "I'm not running a Guild operation and I'm not on some sort of crazy vigilante mission to protect the FSP. Alenda is in danger and I'm going to find her and help her, and if she is dead, then I'm sharding well going to avenge her. Anderssen could be a twelve foot monster shooting lasers out of his eyes, summoning up mach storms at will, and I would still go to her. For the record, Shara is possibly even more committed than I am. We're not going to be put off – either we win or we die."
"Then you will probably die, CS Jarvis," Saito replied, "and that is the best case scenario."
His sympathy for her abruptly evaporated. "And what alternative have you got? What's Exigency's big plan to take Anderssen out?" Zyan demanded.
"I'm sorry, that information is classified – but I can assure you I do have a plan. Tell me where he is – it's the best thing you can do for Alenda. Give me what I need to take Anderssen out. I'll make certain of it, that I promise you."
Zyan glowered at her, and stood. "Thank you for the information, Agent Saito."
"Remember your oath to keep it to yourself," Saito told him. "Anderssen could have ears anywhere. Trust no-one."
"Don't worry, I won't say a word about it to anyone who doesn't already know," Zyan told her, and left the room.
The door swished shut behind him, and the guard directed him to go up two levels for Shara's guest quarters. He thanked him and started walking, and tapped his earbud.
"You get all that?" He subvocalised to Shara.
"Every word," she replied.