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  “Mr. Balotti is a member for Amaethon, correct?” inquired Alessandro. “Telum Armaments was recently given the contract to construct fourteen new Harpoon-class destroyers for the Confederacy navy. They underbid three other frontrunners to earn the business. Do you recall how Mr. Balotti voted?”

  “In favor,” Jiaying responded. “Telum Armaments is the leading employer on Amaethon, and has reduced its work force by nearly twenty percent in recent years, citing increased expenses and lack of business. Andronico claimed he was acting in the best interest of his constituents.”

  “Ah, but what if he were acting in the best interest of himself? If Mr. Balotti can be proven to secretly hold shares in Telum Armaments, his vote breaches Parliamentary conflict of interest laws.”

  Her brows perked like eager birds taking flight. “Can you fabricate evidence against him?”

  “With enough care, investigators can be made to believe anything,” Alessandro affirmed. “The evidence itself doesn’t need to be irrefutable however. Merely mentioning a scandal of this magnitude can derail his campaign for higher office.”

  Jiaying shifted her focus toward Winston. “I admire your associate.”

  “He understands the finer points of encouraging compliance,” Winston remarked. “But what about Ms. Jeong? We’ll require a different strategy to discredit her.”

  “One will be found. Look into Seo-hyeon and uncover potential exploitable weaknesses. I’ll transmit the information I have on her to you as well.”

  “Just make certain the vote tomorrow proceeds as desired.”

  “I have no doubt it will,” Jiaying asserted. “On an unrelated tangent, I wanted to commend you on the accident that struck Delbaeth’s orbital shipyards in the Toraigh system. An inspired choice, to fan the flames of discontent against Elatha and reduce Delbaeth’s naval strength.”

  “What can I say? A bout of creativity struck me.”

  “I meant to ask, how did you manage to push Elathan citizens into storming the Delbaethi embassy, even knowing armed soldiers patrolled the premises?”

  “Never underestimate how low the mob mentality is. I had several agents in Formorii at the time, dispersed among the crowd. They threw a few stones at the gates, chanted obscenities and called for violence, shoved several other bystanders forward. Angry mobs are no different from tidal forces. Once force is exerted on water, its intensity builds and refuses to relent.”

  “I’ve heard of an incident in the Delbaeth capital Ethriel. Apparently some merchants have taken to destroying goods imported from Elatha before they can reach stores and distribution centers. Were your agents likewise involved?”

  Winston offered a genuine smile, one that never failed to charm friend and foe alike. “Would you believe I played no role in that particular event? The people chose to commit that crime on their own in response to an earlier outrage. Even though I would enjoy taking credit, I’m pleased I only needed to incite a few events and then watch as the citizens on both worlds continued my strategy on their own. Stir the plebeians to action, and they’ll handle the rest.”

  “Encouraging compliance, indeed.” Jiaying stood and crossed to a cabinet stocked with various refreshments. She claimed a bottle of wine and removed the cork. “Will you be staying in Alishan long, Mr. Vanderlin?”

  “I’m scheduled to remain in a top floor suite at the Hanging Gardens Villa while my Chief Financial Officer maintains company affairs. The hotel isn’t far from Parliament, should I be needed to petition on behalf of Triaxus.”

  “Excellent. My assistant will provide you with a personal contact number I’ve recently activated. The line is secure if we have need to discuss sensitive matters.” She poured wine into three glasses and handed one to each guest. “Even should the urge strike you, do not arrive here at my offices unannounced. We’ll schedule a meeting if you wish to talk, though I would encourage minimal contact between us in the coming days. For the Minister of Trade and Development to meet with the Triaxus CEO is unremarkable. For her to meet with him on a regular basis and make no announcements or involve others…that is worth investigating.”

  “Have faith, Minister. Discretion is how I’ve attained my position.”

  Jiaying smiled above the rim of her glass. “I thought an unfortunate airspeeder accident involving your predecessor is how you attained your position.”

  “Well, discretion only gets you so far.”

  Jiaying raised her wineglass, catching a glimmer of sunlight through one window. “To the Triaxus Corporation.”

  “To peace in the Tuatha system,” Winston replied, touching his glass to hers. “And to Chancellor Sima Jiaying.”

  Chapter 9

  The Solar Flare exited faster-than-light travel and decelerated, emerging at the heart of a bleak star system that was nonetheless home to millions. Beyond their viewport waited the grandest space station ever constructed, its four central spires housing dozens of protracted arms and encircled by six rotating rings of varying circumferences. Thousands of starships from across the breadth of civilized space gathered in this place to refuel, swap gossip, re-provision for long journeys, or enjoy much needed recreation.

  Milesian Station orbited a supergiant star that scientists hypothesized swallowed several terrestrial and gas giant worlds millions of years earlier when the sun expanded a hundredfold. Though life may have once flourished in the Balor system, only desolation had existed since humanity’s arrival. Distant dwarf planets, long-period comets and a circumstellar disc of tumbling asteroids and cosmic dust were the only features in this barren system today.

  Yet its location at the terminus of several faster-than-light spacelanes and proximity to the Heliades guaranteed Balor’s strategic importance. The Confederacy spent a ludicrous, though still undisclosed, amount of money to construct a habitable, free-floating facility, which would serve as both a restful waystation and security checkpoint for all starships entering the system. Amenities and comforts of every variety were provided for weary travelers, all under the watchful eye of two entire Confederacy fleets and a division of marines.

  “We’re broadcasting the false flag Rude Bargain,” Rinko announced. “All specific data is linked to your console, Kyla.”

  “Reduce velocity and find a leisurely route,” instructed Taylor. “Let’s convince any cocky Confederacy folks watching that we’re a lubberly lot to be disdained and ignored.”

  Taylor gazed through their viewport at the Confederacy Second and Eighth fleets, each composed of two dreadnoughts, a starfighter carrier, four destroyers and no less than a dozen smaller vessels, from assault frigates down to gunboats and starfighter-hunting corvettes. Between all those warships, each fleet could deploy two entire wings of ten squadrons each, numbering four hundred and eighty fighters and bombers total. Overwhelming force scarcely described what awaited in this region of space at the frontier of the Neaera Sector.

  Only one recorded confrontation had ever occurred in the Balor system, seventy odd years earlier when a coalition of unaligned independent planets attempted to invade the Heliades and weaken the central government. Their ambitious navy was brutally wiped out by the Confederacy fleets patrolling Balor, and within a decade each hostile world voted to become full members. No other force had the temerity to challenge Authority supremacy within this sector since.

  Taylor looked at Harun. “Are you certain this is where you want to be openly discussing the Authority’s complicity in starting a war?”

  A flicker of anxiety seized his normally unruffled features. “No. I would greatly prefer to be elsewhere, but the decision was not mine.”

  “A shame those in power never join us in the wolves’ den. The experience would be enlightening for those so eager to risk the lives of others. Did I mention we need to leave our weapons behind?”

  “You neglected to tell me, though I assumed as much.”

  “Security personnel search and scan every person who lands on the station. Don’t consider the merits of hiding a holdout
gun in your pants either, because they’ll find the little fella and confiscate it. Might also choose to imprison you, and that’d ruin your day real quick. It’d make mine a touch better though.”

  “I can’t claim I forgot to leave my sidearm on the ship?” Harun questioned.

  “No one accidentally forgets to remove a concealed weapon. So unless you have Confederacy-issued permits for carrying handguns, don’t take the risk.”

  “Thus we enter into the unknown and dangerous without weapons.”

  “Take heart, Major. At least every other person onboard will also be weaponless. Except the Authority marines. Oh, and I should’ve inquired about this earlier. You have proper identification, right?”

  “We’re intelligence operatives, Captain. We have eight.”

  “Handy.” Taylor jabbed a thumb toward the corridor behind him. “Head back and prep for our field excursion, if you don’t mind. Reyes will help gather the necessary supplies. We’ll join you after we land.”

  Harun hesitated for a moment, likely deciding whether doing as asked constituted following orders and thereby acknowledging Taylor’s authority. Naturally Taylor had phrased the pleasant request in a manner suggesting just that. Harun’s only potential responses were to either do as told or seem petty by refusing. No reason why Taylor should refrain from juvenile shows of power and one-upmanship.

  Finally Harun chose to exit the bridge and grant Taylor a minor victory. It had been a good day thus far.

  White noise stuttered from a misshapen loudspeaker above Connor’s console before words echoed in a monotone voice. “Milesian Customs and Immigration contacting independent Stingray-class light freighter Rude Bargain. Please respond.”

  “Open a channel,” Kyla ordered. “Voice only.”

  Alexis flicked one key and toggled a slider, igniting a cerise light and offering a thumbs up to Kyla.

  “This is Captain Alison Mancini of the Rude Bargain.”

  “Approach on vector two-eight-nine decimal four-seven and declare all cargo.”

  “No cargo to declare, Control,” Kyla responded. “Our last port of call was Taliesin on Gwydion, where we offloaded forty tons of sea bass and dragonsnare from Zhuan Xu. We’ve got three days of rest ahead of us before trying our luck on Tokoyo.”

  “How many crew and passengers do you have onboard?”

  “Ten crewmembers and no passengers at present.”

  “Transmit identification on all crewmembers. You will also be required to present identification cards to officials once you’ve landed.”

  Kyla nodded at Rinko. “Sending all data packets to you now.”

  “No firearms are permitted on Milesian Station. Failure to disclose possession of weaponry can result in a maximum fine of two hundred and fifty thousand or five years in a federal penal facility. Your freighter may also be chosen at random and subjected to a routine search by personnel of the Customs and Immigration department.”

  “I understand, Control. We’re an accommodating group.”

  “Your vessel is permitted berth in Docking Bay 116-B. Welcome to Milesian Station. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you. Captain Mancini out.”

  Alexis silenced communications and spun around in her chair. “Someone had darn well better buy me something nice while I’m cooped up in here babysitting.”

  “I’ll find you a bracelet,” promised Rinko.

  “No one’s buying anything, you slackers,” Taylor chided. “We’ve got business needs doing.”

  Rinko silently mouthed an affirmative message to Alexis while Taylor groaned and unholstered his sidearm. “Keep an eye on Clara, Alexis. Poor thing’s dealt with enough crap. And don’t let Evan do anything stupid.”

  She brightened and leaned forward in her chair. “I’m in charge?”

  “Fine, whatever.” Taylor uttered a wistful sigh, placed his handgun on a console and cracked his neck with a jolt. “Everyone else, time to end a war.”

  *

  Cultivated plants and shrubs lined open areas stretching several floors high, with fountains and waterfalls spilling between pathways. Bridges crossed over courtyards and eateries, leading to stores and patios crowded with travelers. Taylor could see a titanic passenger cruise liner docked against one airlock, visible beyond windows lining the Nexus Emporium. The orange and aquamarine painted on the cruise liner’s round hull resembled a colorful nebula, and the words Starlight Vista were written in bold letters.

  “This entire place is too cheery for my tastes,” Kyla muttered.

  “And dangerously exposed,” replied Reyes. “We should be in one of those cramped, poorly lit cantinas on the lower levels.”

  “Our boy seems too squeamish to venture down there,” Tessa affirmed. “He probably feels safer up here, where he has a nice field of view and everything is brightly lit.”

  Rinko scratched her scalp through cascading black hair. “Speaking of him, how are we supposed to find the seller? Does anyone know what he looks like?”

  “He provided a contact number for me to use,” answered Harun. “Likely a dummy frequency he set up. I provide our position and he’ll slither out from hiding to find us.”

  “I don’t like that one bit,” Taylor remarked.

  “Neither do I. Which is why only two of us will find a quiet, secluded table somewhere and contact him. The others will watch from a vantage point and join us only after our freelancer has arrived.”

  “Then I’ll be the one tagging along. I’m not in the mood to let you two spies go in alone while us conscripted spacefolk are left twiddling our thumbs out of earshot and hoping all is well.”

  “Fine. Come along, Captain. Tessa, take the others somewhere and keep a close eye out for trouble. Remember, so far as the Confederacy is concerned we’re law-abiding citizens enjoying a little recreation. Don’t forget to play the part.”

  “No need to worry,” said Kyla. “We’re the picture of conformist, upstanding sentiments.”

  Taylor bid farewell to his crew with an emotional head nod and wandered deeper into the tranquil emporium. He crossed a curving footbridge over water as high-powered jets sprayed geysers in a timed routine of varying heights and angles while lights created the effect of rippling rainbows. Harun shouldered past a young couple enjoying the sight and arrived at a concourse with restaurants and cafes.

  Two Confederacy marines patrolled the area and Taylor cast a casual glance toward the troopers, though neither seemed overly interested by the spy or smuggler in their midst. Light reflected on the opaque black visors and helmets hiding their faces. Contoured black and red armor sheathed their torsos and limbs, with unit designation patches adorning their shoulders and the Authority Starfleet Marines insignia on the left breast: entwined dog tags encircled by a field of fourteen stars representing the Confederacy’s founding member planets. The marines strode from sight among milling patrons, though the slight chill coursing down Taylor’s spine remained.

  Harun found one vacant table beneath an oak tree and eyed the vicinity while Taylor claimed a chair. The intelligence officer reached into a coat pocket and retrieved his modified UpLink. “Time to learn if our contact man is reliable.”

  “I have my fingers crossed this entire exercise wasn’t pointless.”

  Harun keyed in a sequence of numbers, slipped the device into his jacket once more and propped one leg on a chair with both hands nestled behind his head.

  “That was profoundly anticlimactic,” pronounced Taylor.

  “You were expecting something more exhilarating? We’re in the middle of a café seating area. Explosions and derring-do might be noticed by even the most simple-minded witnesses.”

  “I don’t know how espionage and subterfuge works, but I was damn certain it didn’t just involve hitting a couple buttons and then reclining. Is buying an iced drink the next crucial step in our mission?”

  “If he doesn’t materialize in the next hour. For now our task is to wait and trust that Dirksen and your crew are doing an
adequate job of locating threats. More importantly, our freelancer strikes me as a nervous individual. If we appear calm, he might lower his guard and do the same. Putting our mark at ease is actually the next crucial step in our mission.”

  Taylor admitted the strategy had merit, though made the concession mentally and remained quiet. Harun did not need to hear Taylor approved, since the confession might make him more insufferable.

  Twenty minutes ticked by in uncompanionable silence, and Taylor dealt with boredom by strumming his fingertips on the table in progressively more erratic rhythms. Even though Harun said nothing, Taylor hoped it grated on his nerves.

  Finally Taylor noticed a gawky, scrawny man in his early twenties watching them from a short distance away, wearing a zip up sweater with its hood pulled over his head. Clearly this kid was not a brain trust, but his deficiencies were irrelevant if he honored the arrangement. Not wanting to spook him, Taylor waited for the lad to make his move, all the while assuming Harun had noticed. Eventually the master sleuth staggered through the crowded concourse and plopped into an empty chair across from Taylor. Sweat trickled down his face beneath a pair of oversized sunglasses and he kept both hands in spacious pockets on the front of his hoodie.

  Taylor’s first instinct was to yank the kid’s hands out, tug the hood down and slap the sunglasses off his face before these stupidly suspicious choices drew every eye toward them. His second instinct was to let Harun handle the negotiations, and fortunately for everyone involved that thought won out.

  “You’re the person Elathan security sent?” the youngster asked.

  “You can call me Harun. This is my associate Taylor.”

  “Jeffrey.” He licked his lips and sniffed. “My name is Jeffrey.”

  “I understand you’ve brought us information.”

  A finger fled from his bulbous pockets and jabbed against the table. “First, I need payment and some assurances.”