Starshine: Aurora Rising Book One (10 page)

He stared out the windows lining the opposite wall, comforted by the knowledge there was a beautiful view out there in the darkness. “Because if the EASC Naval Intelligence Liaison shows up at the Summit then someone
might
think we were engaging in covert spying activities—and we wouldn’t want that.”

“Yes, and otherwise they’ll never suspect any such thing.”

“Oh, certainly not.” He sighed and took another sip of the whiskey. Will had been right; it was helping. “It’s the game we play with our adversary. Both sides pretend to be upstanding, sincere and earnest. Both sides secretly try to undermine the other at every opportunity. The status quo continues.”

“
Or
you could simply say ‘to Hell with the whole damn thing’ and go have a drink together.” At Richard’s incredulous glance, he shrugged. “Look. Earth controls sixty-seven worlds, already more than they can manage. The Senecan Federation wanted independence and they got it. They’re thriving and successful and have a lot to offer. I for one would jump at the chance to work on several of the projects they’re pursuing. But I can’t, because I’m from Earth—”

“—and because you’re married to me.”

“Which is a price I’ll gladly pay every day for the rest of my life.” He squeezed Richard’s hand to emphasize the point, then leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “I’m merely saying we don’t need to keep carrying around all this animosity. The war ended twenty-two years ago.”

“Twenty-two years is the blink of an eye for the people involved. Some wounds don’t heal so quickly.”

“You’re talking about Miriam, and Alex.”

He cast his gaze to the ceiling. “Without a doubt. And thousands, Hell, millions of others…I don’t know, maybe I’m talking about me, too. I mean, I lost my best friend, and several damn good ones. I don’t consider myself as walking around bearing a grudge, but if faced with the option, I’m not sure I’m ready to be friends with the Senecans.”

Will’s nod bore conviction. “I get that, I
do
. My uncle died in the war. He was a good man, and my aunt has never gotten over it. And I hate I never had the chance to know David.” He paused, the telltale twitch of his mouth a hint he was pondering whether to continue. “But I still think everyone might benefit if we found a way to put aside the past and move on.”

Richard closed his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips. Will would have made an even better diplomat than he did a construction project manager…but it was only a sign of how much he cared. He laughed and finished off the glass of whiskey. “Except me—I’d be out of a job.”

Will grinned and leaned in closer. “That’s fine. I’ll support you, and you can be
my
manservant.”

6

NEW BABEL

I
NDEPENDENT
C
OLONY

O
LIVIA
M
ONTEGREU WOKE TO
the sensation of calloused fingertips dancing along her hip.

She stretched and rolled over, to be greeted with the smiling face of…she had never asked his name. Not as if it mattered. He was handsome and well-packaged and enthusiastic and couldn’t be older than twenty-five.

He leaned over to kiss her, but she wound a hand into his hair and urged him lower instead. “Be a good boy and finish what you started.”

He grinned as he kissed down her lean, smooth stomach, wasting little time in reaching his destination.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall to the pillow.
What a fabulous way to start the day….

When she had finished, she nudged him off the bed with her toes. “That was lovely. You’ll find your clothes laundered and folded in the entryway. The receptionist in the lobby will call you a cab if you need one.”

He stood, nonchalantly wiping the excess moisture from his lips. “Can I see you again?”

She was already on the way to the shower and didn’t bother to turn around. “Oh, I doubt it.”

Forty minutes later she was seated at her desk, legs crossed elegantly beneath the burnished copper surface. A black silk sarong contrasted against her pale blond hair combed straight to drape down her back. It was all meticulously crafted to project the desired image.

She regarded the nondescript man standing across the desk from her with the slightest tilt of her head.

“Kill her.”

He nodded, unsurprised. “Yes, ma’am. Should I pin the blame on anyone in particular? Maybe Trenton’s group?”

“No. I want everyone to know this one came from me.”

“Understood, ma’am. I’ll inform you once it’s done.”

“No need; I assume you are capable enough. Simply
do
it.”

The man’s throat worked, his composure faltering. “Of course, Ms. Montegreu. Is there anything else?”

“I hope not. Go.” She flicked a perfectly manicured hand in the direction of the exit. He spun on his heel and hurried toward the door.

She rolled her eyes in irritation, but it was for show. Gesson was a competent enforcer, a crafty overseer and most importantly, not overly ambitious. On uncovering evidence the woman in charge of managing new chimeral distribution was skimming off the top, he had first confirmed the evidence then reported it directly to her. She was confident he would handle disposing of the embezzler with similar efficiency.

Once he had departed, she carried her hot tea over to the windows to inspect the morning.

New Babel’s mornings looked suspiciously like its nights, on account of its distant blue dwarf sun and the heavy cloud of dust and gases from the surrounding nebula. It was hardly the most hospitable of planets, but it had two things going for it: an abundance of heavy metals which made industrial construction cheap and fast, and a natural barrier via the nebula against both electronic surveillance and warfare.

As such, it had become a home base for a wide swath of criminal organizations and black market entrepreneurs. There was no government to speak of and even less regulation; the strongest organizations built what they needed when and where they needed it.

The result was a chaotic architecture of high-rises, slums, factories, markets and red-light clusters…well, much of what occurred on the streets of New Babel would qualify as ‘red-light’ on other worlds. Here it took on a whole new meaning.

Her office stood in stark contrast to the dark, grimy, overcrowded city beneath it—quite deliberately so. The entire penthouse suite was spacious, minimally adorned and spotless. A décor of natural marble floors, white mahogany furnishings and copper and glass complements served as a declaration to all who entered that she existed above and apart from the masses below. Like her attire, appearance and bearing, it projected only and entirely what she desired to convey: refinement, prestige, exceptionality. But above all,
power
.

A soft chime in her ear reminded her it was time for the call. She stepped into the triple-shielded, soundproof QEC room hidden behind the visually seamless right wall of her office. Ten seconds later a holo shimmered into existence in front of her.

It revealed a man of indeterminate age, handsome and clean-cut but average in every way—medium skin tone, medium brown hair, medium height, medium build.

That is, until he looked up and met her gaze. Piercing, sea-green eyes hinted at intelligence and cunning, along with an indefinable spark which hinted at something else altogether. The overall effect was to transform what had been an ordinary man into one who radiated dynamism, charisma and authority.

She smiled darkly. “Marcus, it’s good to see you again.”

He raised an eyebrow in mock appreciation. “And you, Olivia. May I say you are even more beautiful than the last time we talked.”

“You may say it, but you need to work on your sincerity a bit.”

He shrugged. “It’s a finite resource, and I need to save it for the constituents. What’s the status?”

“We received the materials day before yesterday. They’re stored in a secure location until it’s time to deploy them. The team has been selected, every member screened by me, and is leaving tomorrow to train on Cosenti. The lead expects to have the final details worked out by late next week.”

“Traceability?”

“Ah, Marcus, always concerned first and foremost with covering your own ass—I know, I know, your ass must be covered for later phases to work. I get it. To you? None. To me? Virtually none. The only conceivable link is the lead, and his cover is so deep it will take Senecan Intel months to begin to peel back the layers in the highly unlikely event he’s identified.”

“Will he break under coercion?”

“It won’t be an issue.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed. “Oh, really?”

“Oh,
really
. I have it covered. Regardless, he and the rest of the team know nothing of you.
No one
save me knows anything of you. That was the agreement, and I honor my agreements.”

“True…” a hand rose to knead at his chin “…you
are
the sole link to me.”

She
tsked
him reproachfully. “If you try to kill me, you will not succeed.”

“Oh, I’m sure. And I won’t need to try, because you are nothing if not power-hungry, and this little project of ours will bring you more power than you ever dreamed of.”

“I can dream of a lot.”

“And you shall have it all—so long as you make certain Palluda goes down cleanly.”

She rolled her eyes in irritation, and this time meant it. “Marcus, who is the most dangerous, most effective, most Machiavellian criminal magnate in settled space?”

“That would be you, my dear.”

“Correct. Don’t question my methods, don’t question my judgment—and most of all don’t question my competency—and we will continue to get along just fine.”

His chin dipped in acquiescence. “I have been properly chastised. We’ll talk again after Atlantis.”

ATLANTIS

I
NDEPENDENT
C
OLONY

J
ARON
N
YTHAL STEPPED OUT
onto the rooftop landing pad and felt a smile grow on his lips. A warm breeze, salty air and bright yellow sun welcomed him like the arms of a beautiful woman. He was going to enjoy this trip.

He pulled his jacket off, draped it over a shoulder and strolled across the pad toward the railing at the edge of the roof while the rest of the Senecan delegation disembarked and saw to the luggage and cargo. Until the Director arrived on Sunday evening he was in charge of the delegation, which meant someone
else
would get his luggage to his room.

He rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks. The transport was fast and secure, but it was still a government vessel and nineteen hours was a
long
time.

His smile only widened as he reached the edge and the splendor of Atlantis spread out beneath him. A tiny planet covered wholly in water, it should have lain unnoticed and undeveloped. But the pleasant temperatures and calm weather of its equatorial region had caught the eye and imagination of a developer tycoon who found himself idle after many successful ventures and with money to burn.

The outcome was a fantasy retreat unlike any other in settled space. Winding pathways suspended a mere two meters over the crystal blue water connected islands of condos, gardens, golf courses and beaches. Only small shuttles and personal vehicles were allowed in the airspace stretching four hundred meters above the waters to allow for a variety of recreational activities, from sky gliding to paracruises and wave skimming.

Casinos, pleasure houses and vacation resorts competed with—or was it complemented?—state-of-the-art conference and convention facilities. Taking advantage of its unaffiliated status and convenient location nearly equidistant between Earth and Seneca, within ten years of opening the first hotel Atlantis had become the most popular destination in the galaxy for both corporate and government conventions.

The breeze began to wash away the grime of travel; he rolled his sleeves above his elbows to hasten the effect. He intended to make every effort to find
plenty
of time around the preparations and even the Summit itself to enjoy the finer pleasures Atlantis had to offer. He already had a series of high-credit escorts lined up for the room at night—more than one on several nights—but not all of Atlantis’ offerings could be indulged in from a hotel room.

The flash of red at the corner of his peripheral vision banished the train of thought and brought a dark scowl to his face. And then there was
that
.

He supplied the decryption code, scanned the message and deleted it almost as soon as it had arrived. It contained suitably cryptic phrasing, but the point came through clear enough.

Payment had been received. Final preparations were underway. The assignment would be completed at the time and in the manner the other party deemed most efficient. If all went well, Jaron would never know the man (or woman) had ever been at the Summit. That is, except for the irrefutable evidence thereof they would leave in their wake.

He’d return to Seneca a richer man, though the new funds paled in comparison to the wealth he expected to soon follow. Yessiree…he should be able to set his wife and kids up in one of the swank new townhomes in the Pinciana neighborhood, with enough left over for a private condo retreat for himself downtown. It was a long way from his parents’ tiny apartment tucked behind their ‘herb’ shop shouting distance from the
kasō shakai
, the underworld slums the rest of Cavare pretended didn’t exist. A long way indeed.

Of course if all
didn’t
go well, he’d be facing forty-years-to-life in prison at best, permanent disappearance into the black hole of a covert intelligence detention facility at worst. It wasn’t the first high-stakes risk he had taken in his life…but it certainly carried the greatest consequences, whether win or lose.