PART IV
Chapter 32
Aliston Credenzo lies nude atop Exel's infinite thread-count sheets. She watches the trillionaire's post-coital brood. It's a performance, much like her own from minutes prior, but she indulges him anyway: gives him her rapt attention. She makes her face look concerned. Oh this poor great man. Troubled by quandaries I could never comprehend.
Which is fine. She'll play the ingenue. She won't perform it as well as that smooth-brained Slake, but she'll be adequate.
Exel may just be her ticket to Admiral. Or higher.
She imagines the tunic and vestments. The words, Grand Admiral Credenzo of the Galactic Imperial Navy, echo in her mind. It's just a pity that the Baroness will be too dead to see it.
While making goo-goo eyes at Exel, Credenzo thinks it may be worth advocating for clemency for the traitor. Again, the fire of her imagination swells, picturing Slake ten years down the line, her back crooked from hard labor on some high-grav, high-rad rock. Pustules from the radiation boiling her alive. That's when she'll send word to that uppity whore.
Grand Admiral Credenzo sends her regards.
Delicious.
Exel sighs, impatient that she's taken so long to ask him what's troubling him.
"Are you all right, killer?" she asks with a throaty laugh.
"Starting now. No. Starting five minutes ago, I want all of your fighters at the Ex-Factor."
Aliston's interest piques. This is not the standard pout from Exel. This is serious. "Not the Profundity?" Credenzo hates the idea. The MC90 has more space, more prestige, more access to Vice Admiral Virta who will certainly be on a shortlist for a promotion after this project.
Not to mention that she loves catching Roderick and Slake pining after their precious Interceptors through the windows. God, it's so pathetic. They nearly fog up the glass.
"Hm. You must be deaf. Are you deaf? I can scribble my order on a datapad if you wish," Exel spits.
"No, lover, I'm not deaf." She reaches down, taking him in her hand. "I just thought you'd want to keep me close.
Exel knocks her arm away. "I don't. What I want, again, is the squadron back on the Frigate."
Credenzo feels humiliation burn down her spine. She's thankful for the darkness that Exel insists upon when does what he does to her. But she's growing very tired of his barbs. When she's Admiral, she'll remember the way he treated her. The way they all treated her. Tav, Slake, Roderick, every rung of the ladder she climbed, she'll snap them all.
"Very well. What about the support staff? Shall they be moved as well?"
"Fat lot of good they'll do on the ship when the fighters are all on the Ex! You know, for a commanding officer, I have to explain a lot of things to you. I'm starting to see why you've had to wait so long for your rank."
This ugly, spoiled prick. Nevertheless, Credenzo swallows her anger. "Fine. I'll move them."
"Look at that. You're finally using your head for something other than base pleasure."
Credenzo stands from the bed and dresses in her flight suit. She forces herself to slow down, appear at-ease. She doesn't ever want him to think that he's hurt her. She holds her face strong and neutral. As she zips and snaps, she asks, "Is there something I should know?" in what she hopes sounds like an off-handed question. Just making conversation.
"Slake's planning a move against me. She and the indentures."
Credenzo spins and glares at Exel. "Then why don't you fucking kill her?" It's not like he hasn't done it before with that Rebel bitch from the bomber group.
"Because," Exel sighs, "She's the key to everything. Success of this project hinges on her."
Credenzo speaks her mind. "That makes no sense at all."
"It doesn't have to make sense to you. You have three jobs. Protect me. Don't ask questions."
"What's my third job?" Credenzo asks.
"Get back in bed and find out."
Aliston does what she's told. Despite all her politicking, obedience is what she's best at.