Graveyard of Empires Page 10

  “What did I send him?”

  “An old model hunting rifle, modified and engraved. The family collects them. Jacob Wellington is her guest with the red bowtie. He works for her company and is from a merchant family. Let her introduce him but don’t shake his hand.”

  “Why not?”

  “His family is too low.”

  “The other woman?”

  “Rachel Gates. She is the guest of Consular Peter Gavriel.”

  Kristi narrowed her eyes. She knew of the Consular but had never met the man personally. He was a soulless calculating murderer and smuggler. “That’s Peter, in the tuxedo?”

  “We aren’t here to fight,” Jamar chided.

  “He’s a scourge on the Republic. A cancerous cell spreading corruption.”

  “He’s also rich and has lots of friends,” Jamar said. “That scourge could destroy you in an afternoon.”

  “When I’m Captain, he will have no power over me.”

  “And until then he can destroy you. Play nice.”

  Kristi stared daggers at Jamar and then blew out a breath, willing her anger to go with it. She forced a smile on her face.

  “Stop smiling,” Jamar said. “It makes you look constipated.”

  She sighed.

  The group was moving toward them, talking amongst themselves. Jacob Wellington was a handsome man with wavy hair and a thin face. Kathryn was a frumpy woman in a saggy dress.

  Rachael Gates was supermodel pretty, standing a full three inches above Kristi with blonde hair and green eyes. Her expensive silver dress dropped to her ankles, but it included a cut all the way to her thigh on the right side. It was modest while still showing plenty of skin.

  Peter Gavriel was a thin, black man with perfectly white teeth and silver rimmed glasses. His lips were curled in a half-smile, and he wore a charcoal gray suit.

  Jamar drifted away, too low born to be introduced, leaving her alone with the approaching group. She waited until they had come up to her and then turned first toward the frumpy little woman. “Kathryn, dear,” she said with as much honey as she could muster. “How are you?”

  “I am flourishing,” the frumpy woman said, delighted. “I didn’t know if you would recognize me.”

  “Of course,” Kristi admonished. “Your family has been of great assistance to me and I consider you a closer personal friend. How is your father? Did he like the gift I sent him?”

  “He loved it,” Kathryn said.

  “Has his health improved? I nearly died when I heard he was in the hospital!”

  “Quite a bit. He had a bout of pneumonia some weeks back but recovered from it quite well. Thank you for your concern.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m happy to hear it.”

  “And this gentleman is Jacob Wellington, my guest for the evening,” Kathryn said. He started to extend his hand. Kristi nodded politely at him but turned her attention to the Consular. Jacob got the message and dropped his arm.

  “And how do you do, this fine evening?” she asked, working to keep anger from her voice.

  “I am most excellent,” the Consular replied, smiling at her. He reached out toward her and Kristi forced herself to offer her hand. She hated him. She hated everything about him and the thought of touching him sickened her. But to refuse would be discourteous, which would be tantamount to suicide among these people.

  He took her fingers in his hand and knelt down, brushing his lips across her skin. Shivers of displeasure danced up her spine, but she imagined that instead of him kissing her knuckles she was punching him in the face. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

  “Congratulations on your promotion,” Kathryn said as the exchange was completed. “We were all delighted to hear you would be taking over Denigen’s Fist. It was always one of my father’s favorite vessels. Did you ever have the chance to serve on it?”

  “Ten years ago,” Kristi said, “before I was promoted to Commander. This is something of a homecoming for me.

  “I am sure you will purport yourself with the highest of honor,” Peter Gavriel said.

  “Thank you,” Kristi replied curtly, aware that she was scowling. She doubted that looks could kill, but was determined to try.

  Kathryn, oblivious, smiled at the both of them. “Well it was wonderful seeing you, Ms. Grove, and I wish you all the best in your new position. Jacob, come along.”

  Jacob flashed his brightest fake smile at her and moved to follow Kathryn. All that was missing was a leash.

  “I hope you enjoy your term on Denigen’s Fist,” Consular Peter said once the others were out of earshot. “Short as it is likely to be.”

  Kristi bit back her first retort. Then her second. And third. She tried to think of a Jamar-approved statement, and settled for, “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be watching, waiting for you to fail.”

  She forced herself to take a deep breath.

  “And when your world finally comes apart at the seams, I will be there to pick up the pieces.”

  “Is that so? Because I’ll be coming for you to wipe out your very exis—”

  “Commander, I believe Sir Nolantis was looking for you,” Jamar said smoothly, slipping up beside Kristi and deliberately bumping into her. He turned to look at Peter Gavriel. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, was I interrupting something?”

  The Consular smiled. “No, our discussion has been concluded. I believe we understand each other quite well.”

  Kristi started to open her mouth. Jamar shot her a warning look and she closed it again. “It was nice speaking to you,” she said. Peter grinned and turned to leave, his eye candy following.

  “Two days,” Jamar said in exasperation. “You need to survive two more days without convincing someone to kill you. And here you are making threats.”

  “He won’t do anything to jeopardize my position. I have too much support.”

  “He doesn’t need any support to hire a killer.”

  “I’m not worried about an assassin murdering me.”

  Jamar frowned. “And why not?”

  “Because your job is to keep me safe,” she said. “And if you fail, I’ll be sure to kill you.”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Good plan.”

  “I thought so. Can I leave yet? I’ve had enough ostentation for a lifetime.”

  “A few more moments. The Portman family will be leaving first. We can follow in their wake without offering offense.”

  “You seem quite convinced.”

  “I am,” Jamar replied.

  “How do you know they are going to leave?”

  “The same way I always know at parties like these,” Jamar said, picking his drink off a nearby table. He took the olive out and bit into it, savoring the flavor. “I slipped a fast acting laxative in Mrs. Portman’s drink.”

  “You did what?”

  “Only enough to make her uncomfortable. Unless I misguessed the dose. It was a horse laxative, and she looks to be about seventy kilos. It should be having the desired effect in—”

  He was interrupted by the sound of glasses crashing to the floor. Everyone looked over to see a middle-aged woman with graying hair holding the hem of her dress and pushing her way through the crowd. A worried look was plastered on her face.

  She was pursued by her husband, making excuses.

  They disappeared into the hallway. Everyone watched the door in stunned silence.

  Kristi fought back a chuckle. She couldn’t successfully hide her grin.

  “I think that is our cue,” Jamar murmured, finishing his drink.

  Kristi made her way over to the Nolantis family and thanked them profusely for the invitation. Then she headed into the hallway toward the elevators. She pressed the button and waited for her servant to catch up.

  “Jamar,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Have I ever told you that you are a horrible person?”

  “Every day.”

  “Good,” she said. “That’s go
od.”

  Chapter 8

  Sector 6 – Geid

  Argus Wade

  1

  Wade stood outside the little gray house belonging to Traq and his mother, letting his friend think in silence. It was painful for him. He was talkative by nature, willing to ramble on and on about anything and everything. Vivian, on the other hand, preferred lapses of solitude, and he did his best not to interrupt her thought process.

  Argus Wade wanted to get away from here, to leave Geid and return home to Axis. As much as he hated the Ministry, he loved the amenities afforded him. He’d sold the last bits of his cargo, but not nearly at the profit margin he had hoped to achieve. The people on Geid were poor. They couldn’t afford to pay extravagant prices for commodities, let alone frivolities.

  An eagle flashed by overhead, its enormous shadow trailing along the ground. Argus watched it disappear into the sky. It was quite a beautiful day though a little warm and humid for his taste. It would be strange, he knew, to live somewhere like this. Somewhere so…quiet. None of the ambient city noises he’d grown up with to occupy him. Just the wind and the trees.

  He would get bored with it, he knew. The thing about the fast-paced lifestyle was that once you had a taste of it, there was no going back.

  A naked child suddenly came sprinting out of the communal bathhouse, laughing and wet and chased by his angry mother. He was maybe three years old. Vivian jumped from the excitement, caught off guard and lost in her thoughts.

  “Argus,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I can’t do this.”

  “You have to,” Argus said. “There is no alternative.”

  “I don’t know anything about children.”

  “I had some self-help books sent to the Cudgel. They are waiting in your cockpit. Motherhood and You seems pretty simple.”

  She gave him a cross look.

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  She sighed. “I know.”

  “Keep him busy. See what he likes. I sent a full curriculum for him from the Ministry archives.”

  “For schooling?”

  Argus nodded. “You won’t have to worry about his education.”

  “It won’t be enough,” she said.

  “It’s the best of what the Ministry has to offer. A better education couldn’t—”

  “I’m going to teach him how to survive,” she interrupted.

  Wade hesitated. “How to fight, you mean.”

  “They are often the same thing,” she said. “His life won’t be easy.”

  “No,” Argus said. “It won’t. But he has the best person in the world watching over him.”

  “Flattery, Wade? Really?”

  “I meant myself,” he said. “But I guess having you around isn’t bad either.”

  She smiled the tiniest bit.

  “Just keep yourself busy, and I’ll be in touch as often as I can. If you need anything, money, supplies, you let me know.”

  “We’ll be fine,” she said. “I think I found a good cover, as well.”

  “Oh?”

  “Warships. They talk about enormous vessels twice the size of Capital Ships. At least.”

  “I heard mention of that on Terminus, many years ago,” Wade said. “You don’t think they are truthful, do you?”

  She shrugged. “They might have some technologies we don’t know about on them. From what I heard, they were lost centuries ago.”

  “If they exist, I’m sure we would have heard about them.”

  Vivian thought about that for a moment. “You might be right.”

  “I always am.”

  She ignored him. “Nevertheless, it still gives me something to do. An excuse for why I’m not returning alongside you.”

  “Thank you, Vivian,” he said. “I mean it, from the bottom of my heart.”

  She glanced at him and nodded. “Take care of yourself, Wade.”

  Then she turned and headed into the small house.

  Chapter 9

  Sector 6 – Geid

  Traq Lane

  1

  Traq was terrified.

  When the woman—Vivian Drowel—had shown up at the door, she’d had a short conversation with Rica and then after a tearful and quick goodbye she’d taken Traq by the hand and led him away from his home. His mother packed him a bag and told him she loved him.

  He was in a daze following Vivian through Averton. She was tall, a lot taller than his mother, with high cheekbones and dark hair. She held onto his hand with an iron grip and pulled him whenever he slowed to try to look over his shoulder.

  His eyes were wet, but he didn’t dare cry out loud. The first time he’d started sobbing she gave him a long look.

  He’d heard stories about horrible witches eating little children when they misbehaved. He tried really, really, hard not to think about those stories.

  They walked in silence. Averton was a place he knew by heart. A sprawling metropolis of narrow streets and bustling people. There were four open-air markets crammed with customers and goods. Dried fish hung from lines, and the entire city smelled of fermenting fish. In a few weeks, workers would slide the bones out of the mushy meat and pound it into a salty paste.

  They navigated around a vendor pouring fruity drinks from his cart that were laden with sugar. Farther along the roadway, a teenage boy offered to sell Vivian a pair of cheap sunglasses, and still farther a dog hiked his leg against the corner of a salon, watching them pass.

  Traq watched it all but saw none of it. He couldn’t really believe he would leave Averton behind forever. Let alone his planet. It just seemed so unreal, like a dream.

  Or a nightmare.

  A carefully tended garden surrounded a golden shrine. A lot of people knelt in front of it. Once, a few months earlier, he’d asked his mom why she never prayed at the little shrine. She told him that it didn’t belong to their God. He wasn’t really sure what that meant.

  Outside the city, it was a twenty-minute walk, yet it seemed to take only seconds. Vivian led him to a large parking lot for factory workers. There was a massive silver spaceship resting in the center.

  “What is that?” he murmured.

  She didn’t reply.

  Probably a spaceship, he decided, curious despite his terror. The ship was enormous and sleek, at least four times bigger than his house. The strange metal gleamed brightly from all different angles, catching sunlight in some spots and reflecting it in others. He wondered how it flew. He couldn’t imagine something that big lifting off the ground.

  But they didn’t go in. Not that one. Vivian took him instead to a much smaller and older ship. It was resting in the shadow of the larger vessel, hidden in the corner of the lot.

  He felt an intense pang of fear. Where the first one was wondrous, this one was terrifying. It looked like a death trap.

  “Climb on board,” Vivian said.

  Traq eyed the loading ramp apprehensively. The paint was fading and he saw weird shapes and letters on the side. His mother had begun to teach him how to read, so he recognized a few of the letters but some of them were completely foreign.

  This ship was basically a big box with rounded edges attached to a smaller box jutting out the front.

  “Is it safe?” he asked.

  “It’s old, but still flies. The engines were replaced a few years ago and all of the safety systems meet Engineering Standards.”

  Traq had been asking about the ramp—it didn’t seem to have any supports keeping it off the ground—but nodded anyway. Slowly, he started walking up the metal platform, gaining confidence as he went.

  Vivian guided him to an enclosed room near the back without talking, her boots making metallic thuds against the floor. Traq’s own shoes were soft-soled and caused only a whisper. The inside was cooler than outside. It was almost cold.

  She gestured to a pile of blankets and clothing in the corner of the room. “Stay here during takeoff,” she said.

  Then she disappeared, the door sliding shut behind her.
Traq was surrounded by crates and the walls were angled differently than his house, making it feel cramped and uncomfortable. And he was alone.

  There were no windows either. The air tasted stale and bitter.

  A humming sound grew from underneath him and the floor felt like it was vibrating. He didn’t like it. He felt like a rat trapped in a cage.

  With no alternatives, he sat down on the blankets: the floor was made of latticed metal. He doubted it would be comfortable to lay on for more than a few minutes.

  After about an hour he started sobbing.

  It was still another hour before he gained enough courage to leave the cramped room to explore.

  He wandered through the small ship absently, marveling at how different it was. The walls were polished metal, not wood or concrete. Bright lights dominated the narrow hallway. He’d been in cars, had even heard about ones that hovered, but nothing like this. The houses in Averton weren’t fully sealed or climate controlled. Inside this ship, however, he felt…stuck. Enclosed.

  Trapped.

  There was an alcove with an exit hatch near the front. A window on the side showed a star-filled canopy beyond. It was like looking at the stars in the middle of the night.

  To his left a ladder dropped into a dark room. There was a loud grinding sound and hiss, not very inviting.

  The last things he saw were a pair of sliding doors along the wall on his right and another door straight ahead. He didn’t go near them. He was afraid of getting in trouble if the tall woman came back.

  Instead, he went back to the cargo hold and sat down.

  About ten minutes passed before she finally returned. He heard footsteps clapping toward him. He huddled in the blankets, terrified. Vivian stepped into the room and stared down at him, standing in the doorway. The lights were behind her, framing her in shadows.

  “Do you have any questions?” she asked. Her words were clipped and strange, and he had to struggle to understand her. Her accent was nothing like what he’d heard before.

  He asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Mali.”

  “Why?”

  “Business.”