Confluence

CHAPTER EIGHT: DOMINIQUE RADKO

They had a two-room suite on the liner to Redmond. An outer room for Tiana Chen’s staff, and an inner room with a huge double bed that was bigger than Radko’s cabin on the Lancastrian Princess.

The screen on the wall, tuned to a news channel, was as tall as she was.

“I could get used to this.” Van Heel looked around the outer room with satisfaction. She settled onto a comfortable couch. “Toss me some fruit, Chaudry,” for Chaudry was inspecting the contents of the bowl on the table.

“I don’t even know what most of it is,” Chaudry said.

“I don’t care. Send some over.”

“I need sleep,” Radko said. This was the third time zone, and third set of daylight hours she’d been awake for. “Stay in quarters. Do any prep you think you might need, but if I don’t get some rest, I’ll be useless.”

She jerked awake when they turned up the sound. The first word she heard was “Eleven,” followed soon after by “alien ships.” She recognized the voice of the man being interviewed. Admiral Markan of Roscracia.

Radko rolled out of bed and went to see what was happening.

Markan looked calm, but Radko had seen enough of him to know that underneath he was ready to blow.

“It is only one ship,” Markan said. “It can’t be everywhere at once.”

“But there are another 130 ships in orbit around Haladea III. And one of those is larger than the Eleven.”

“Half those ships are damaged too badly to use. The rest have no crew. Including the Confluence. It will be months before they can use them. The war will be over by then.”

“Even one ship can do massive damage, as we’ve seen.”

The reporter had a Roscracian accent. It was the first time Radko had seen Markan put on the spot by his own people.

“Of course it can,” Markan said. “But as I mentioned, it is only one ship. If it arrives at a battle, we know how to counteract it. We can simply jump away until the ship leaves, then come back. The New Alliance cannot get the jumps. Everything is under control.”

“There is a rumor the alien ships don’t need jumps. That they can jump cold. What do you say to that?”

Markan stared straight at the camera. “I say that is an absolute lie. Furthermore, if the New Alliance is jumping cold, they risk the lives of billions of people every time they do so. These are the monsters we are fighting.”

“Sometimes I admire that man,” Radko said.

Han gave her a strange look.

She ignored it. “What happened?” but the screen had already changed.

Filming a battle was difficult, for the distances were huge and ships relatively small. News crews deployed drones to a battle and used them to create composites, with the distances compressed. Hundreds of drones, tiny little mechanized cameras that clogged up the spaceways and could be more dangerous than incoming fire.

“They deployed one of the alien ships,” Han said.

She could see that. The Eleven loomed closer and closer, then suddenly it wasn’t the Eleven anymore.

“They swapped with the Wendell.” That was the kind of thing Ean would do. Kari Wang would never switch ships like that, and Radko bet it had been a cold jump.

“They swapped with the enemy,” Chaudry said. He looked as pleased as if he’d arranged it himself. “They planned that ship would be destroyed in place of them.”

“I bet the captain’s having kittens,” Han said.

Not Piers Wendell. He got calmer the stronger the action. There was nothing around the Wendell that posed a danger to the ship. That meant the fighting was elsewhere. “Can we see what the Eleven is doing?”

“It’s hiding, waiting for someone to destroy the Wallacian ship,” Chaudry said.

“You need to learn which ships are on our side.”

“It’s the Wendell,” Chaudry said. “He is a spy.”

Radko looked at her team of three. Even van Heel was nodding. “The Wendell and its crew are part of the New Alliance fleet. They have no love for Gate Union, or for Wallacia. No one calls them spies. Understand.”

She didn’t miss the look that passed between them. She didn’t comment either.

On-screen, the Eleven switched places with the Wendell again.

Radko watched the rest of the battle. The alarm on her comms sounded as the first of the Gate Union ships disappeared, making them all jump.

“I need to get ready,” she said. “The rest of you, do what you can to disguise yourselves, but not obviously. Makeup or clothes, nothing more. I want you to look different.” If they got into trouble, they could quickly change clothes and remove their makeup. It might be enough to get past any blocks set up to stop them.

She made for the fresher.

Ean had been on board the Eleven. They couldn’t have done a ship flip like that without him. He’d probably made for his own fresher afterward. He wouldn’t have liked the battle.

The sooner this job was over, the happier Radko would be.

Except they still had the problem of Sattur Dow. Until that was sorted, she couldn’t go home.

She dressed carefully in the classic-cut business clothes fashionable across the galaxy right now and added a black wig with a heavy, coiled braid. She’d thought about dyeing her own hair black, but Chen had long hair, and it would be difficult to explain a sudden haircut. Not only that, if they needed to escape, she could get rid of the wig, and no one would recognize her.

She hoped.

As she applied careful makeup to broaden her chin and flatten her cheeks, she thought about what she knew of Tiana Chen. Most of it came from Galenos’s intelligence gathering, but she had seen her around the palace occasionally. And at her mother’s house. Yesterday now.

She’d once heard Chen put a highly placed palace official in his place. At the time, Radko had wondered how she dared, for the man outranked her. It was only after she started working on the Lancastrian Princess that she discovered Chen was blackmailing half the people in the palace. Not badly enough for them to do away with her but enough for her to enjoy some role reversal when she could get it.

And now she had an in with Sattur Dow. Had Chen blackmailed Dow, and if so, with what? Or maybe Dow had simply offered her patronage in return for her knowledge.

The shuttle down to Redmond was a classy, six-passenger vehicle. The sort a wealthy woman would hire. What was Tiana Chen doing right now? How long had Vega been able to delay her?

It was a silent trip. Radko used the time to check her comms, which was what Chen would do. Had done, in fact, on that earlier trip with Radko and her mother. She’d talked then as well, but that was to equals. She wouldn’t talk to her bodyguards.

Chaudry—almost unrecognizable with a cleverly applied makeup that looked as if he’d recently come out of regen—pulled at the knuckles of his right hand. It was his only sign of nervousness, but she suspected if she could hear lines, there’d be a note of distress in there somewhere. It was a pity it was out of character to try to calm him.

Once on the ground, she hired an aircar. A luxury model. Again, what Chen would hire.

“I could get used to this,” van Heel said again. “None of my jobs to date have been like this. Usually, we’re mechanics or service people.”

“Not much fun being the servant,” Han said. “I never realized how boring being a servant would be.”

“It has to be better than a military policeman.”

“Clearly, you’ve never been a military policeman.”

Radko routed the aircar halfway across the city from where they planned to go. Call her paranoid, but she didn’t want to go straight to her destination.

“I’ve been meaning to say, Chaudry, your disguise is brilliant.” If anyone came looking for them, they would look for someone with regenerated skin.

It calmed him, which it was meant to, but it was honest, too.

“As children, we played doctors and symptoms.”

It wasn’t a game Radko had ever heard of. “And you were the doctor?”

“I preferred to be the symptoms.”

“Strange games where you came from,” Han said.

“It was fun. You had to do the symptoms right.”

Radko thought it might have been. A combination of art and medicine. She’d like to hear more, but right now they had other things to worry about. “Pick the smaller blasters. Use a back holster. Make sure it can’t be seen under your jacket.” It would take vital seconds to get at them, but OneLane would ask two armed bodyguards to remove their weapons.

She felt naked without a weapon at her own side. Chaudry looked as if he’d never worn one in his life. He probably hadn’t, outside of drills.

Radko breathed out, long and slow. This was an easy job. Remember that. A quick in, look at the plans, see if they were worth buying, then out.

And then what? Would Sattur Dow be gone by then? Unlikely.

Vega would send her on another job—possibly already had it planned, in fact.

Their roundabout trip gave van Heel time to set up some of the surveillance equipment. She passed each of them a tiny disc. “The shop is a communications black hole. I can’t trace you while you’re in there, but I’ll know the second you come out.”

Radko looked at the screen. One had to assume OneLane was selling pricey stolen goods to warrant such security. “Do a flyover, then circle around to land.”

“Nearest park is two buildings away,” van Heel said. “Whoever heard of a shop that doesn’t have roof landing?”

Ean had said there were whole blocks where he’d grown up that didn’t have parking for aircars. Although, the area they were flying over wasn’t that sort of place.

“What do you think?” Radko asked.

“It looks normal. Like a high-end shopping center. Right number of people, right amount of traffic.” Van Heel dropped neatly into a carspace.

“Let’s go,” Radko said to Han and Chaudry.

Radko had been in shops like Callista OneLane’s before. As a youngster, trailing after her mother for another jeweled egg, or for a high-end gift for a member of the Great Families her parents needed to impress. Or later, on her own, when she found something to interest her. It had been a shock the first time she’d entered one wearing a spacer’s uniform, to find the proprietor thought she’d come to sell stolen military property.

Radko smiled ruefully. She’d been young then.

The shop was quiet.

Radko recognized Callista OneLane immediately. She was ushering a client out the back, into the private offices. A man around her own age, in casual clothes, with the pale skin of a spacer who seldom came on world. The quick glance he gave them as they came in made her think he was selling rather than buying.

There were two shop assistants and one other customer—a well-dressed businessman examining a long, pointed obsidian stick that looked as if it might sit well on Commodore Vega’s wall. He looked familiar.

An assistant handed something small and black to the businessman. He clicked it onto the middle of the stick, holding himself stiff while he did so. Radko bet he was wearing a corset under his clothes, something that pulled in his waist and forced him to stand straight. She smiled at the small vanity that gave the otherwise colorless businessman a measure of personality.

The other assistant came over to Radko. “May I help you?”

“Callista OneLane is expecting me. Tiana Chen.”

“Of course.” They’d been primed, for he recognized the name. “Madam OneLane is with a customer at the moment. She won’t be long.” He indicated a luxurious sitting area off to one side of the store. “While you wait, can I offer you some refreshments?”

“No.” Radko made it sharp and dismissive, like Tiana Chen would. “I’ll browse.” She felt safer on her feet. More in control.

He hovered, offering information about various items, until she said, “If I require information, I’ll call you.”

He bowed. “Of course,” and blessedly left her alone with Han and Chaudry.

Han kept an easy pace behind her, whistling softly to himself. It wasn’t recognizably a line tune; it was a popular song. Had she ever heard a linesman sing popular songs? Ean, for sure, wouldn’t know any. The lines were his life.

Chaudry wasn’t as comfortable. He stared around the shop although his gaze kept returning to the other customer.

“Don’t stare obviously, Chaudry,” Radko said, quietly, so that only the three of them could hear. “Do it unobtrusively, with sideways glances when you’re looking at something else.”

“He’s staring at us,” Chaudry said. “And there’s something—”

Radko glanced over at the man. He was watching them, frowning as if they weren’t supposed to be there. She glared at him discouragingly through narrowed eyes.

He winked at her, hefted the obsidian spear in his hands, and looked down over it, as if looking down a barrel. He seemed to be pointing it directly at her.

Radko remembered the movement, recognized the man. Last time he’d lifted his arm like that, he’d had a blaster in his hand and had been about to kill her.

Stellan Vilhjalmsson. Assassin, and close friend and confidante of Admiral Markan, head of the Gate Union fleet.

“I’ve got it,” Chaudry said triumphantly, making Radko jump. “He’s wearing a surgical brace. That man has injured his spine.”

Vilhjalmsson turned back to his weapon. Though his attention seemed to be off them, Radko knew he watched them as carefully as she was now watching him.

“Be wary of him. He’s an assassin. He could kill us from where he stands if he wanted to.”

Why hadn’t he?

“He’s injured,” Chaudry said.

She didn’t think that would stop him.

An older woman burst into the shop. Radko wasn’t the only one who swung around. Vilhjalmsson did as well. Chaudry was right. He did move carefully.

“Where’s Callista?” She reminded Radko of Governor Jade in build and in imperiousness. Her voice was familiar. Distinctive, and parodied on many comedy shows across Lancia and Haladea III. The wife of the head of government of the Redmond worlds.

An assistant hurried forward. “Madam OneLane will be with you in a moment, Partner Nataliya. Meantime, can I offer you refreshments?” He tried to lead her over to the elegant couches, but she paced the shop as if a demon were after her.

“I am in a hurry.”

“She won’t be long, ma’am,” the sales assistant said smoothly, while the other assistant slipped quietly out the back.

Moments later, OneLane came out with the seller she’d exited with earlier. They shook hands. The seller looked satisfied. No doubt he’d gotten a better deal than he’d expected, given OneLane hadn’t had time to bargain.

The shop assistant moved up discreetly to stand beside Radko. “We apologize for keeping you waiting, Madam Chen, but Partner Nataliya is a regular at the store, and it is an emergency for her.”

Partner Nataliya looked like a person who had emergencies all the time.

“Can I get you some refreshments?” and he once again tried to usher Radko across to the couches.

Another time she might have sat because she could tell it would be a long wait. But not now, not when it put her in a corner with a master assassin roaming around.

“I am enjoying browsing,” Radko said. “I have everything I need.” She moved closer to OneLane and Partner Nataliya, partly to get rid of the shop assistant—for he wouldn’t persist close to other customers—and partly to put a barrier between herself and Vilhjalmsson. She made sure Chaudry and Han followed. It was her job to keep them alive. The move brought her close enough to hear the conversation between storekeeper and customer.

“I am in dire straits, Callista,” Partner Nataliya said. “I’m catching a ship tonight to Aeolus, and I need to take a gift to the Factor of the Lesser Gods to celebrate his upcoming wedding.”

Why would the wife of the ruler of Redmond buy a betrothal gift for a man whose world was supposed to be enemies with hers? Why would she be going to said enemy’s planet?

Vilhjalmsson hadn’t moved.

OneLane picked up a striking latticework in a greenish-brown metal. “What about this? It’s made from pelagatite.”

Nataliya made a face. “Pelagatite’s not rare anymore. Not on the Worlds of the Lesser Gods. They’ve a big mine coming up to production on Hellas, and another one on Pan.”

Hadn’t Emperor Yu offered Michelle’s hand in marriage and a pelagatite mine in exchange for the Factor’s support?

They eventually settled on a small etching by the preline artist Tamas Abbat. Radko conservatively priced it at five hundred thousand credits.

Partner Nataliya left happy.

One of the shop assistants had a quiet word with OneLane. She nodded and came over to Radko.

“Madam Chen. I am so glad you came promptly. Offers like this don’t come on the market every day. I already have other interested parties.”

Did she half glance back at Vilhjalmsson when she said that, or was it a trick of the light when her eyes moved? Vilhjalmsson definitely smiled.

“May I see the merchandise?” Radko asked. And the back door, if they had one. Or would Vilhjalmsson expect that?

OneLane raised her hand to her staff in a discreet signal. “This way,” and started toward the back. Radko, Han, and Chaudry followed. Radko kept her hand close to the knife in her boot.

Vilhjalmsson raised the spear. It was, indeed, a weapon. They were close enough that Radko could see the buttons on the top, and the miniscreen that lifted. Unfortunately, too far away for her to use her knife for anything except throwing.

“I wouldn’t mind sitting in on this,” Vilhjalmsson said.

“Touch my people, and you’re dead,” Radko told him.

“Believe me”—and he sounded fervent—“I have no intention of harming any of your people right now. Not until I know where I stand.”

“I am glad we understand each other.”

Behind them, something heavy thudded to the floor. He was good. She hadn’t seen him move. A second thud.

She knew what it was without looking. OneLane’s assistants.

OneLane glanced back but didn’t move toward them.

Chaudry started toward the fallen salespersons. “Chaudry,” Radko said, “leave them. They’re either dead already, or they’ll be fine.”

“It’s a general anesthetic,” Vilhjalmsson said. “They’ll come out of it in around four hours.” He moved the spear OneLane’s way when she surreptitiously tried to take out her comms. “Drop it on the floor.”

“That weapon is a ceremonial Traaken spear,” OneLane said. “Deadly when it’s loaded, but in my shop it isn’t. You might be able to stab us with it, but you can’t do much else.”

“Now there’s where you’re wrong,” Vilhjalmsson said. “I was in here yesterday.” OneLane nodded at that. “Today, I came prepared. It is fully armed now, even the tip, as you can see by what happened to your staff.” He tapped the small black piece he’d clipped on earlier. “Anesthetic and poison darts,” then tapped the length of the spear farther down. “Voltage here. Drop your comms.”

OneLane complied.

Chaudry moved to do the same.

“Not you, Chaudry. You keep your hands clear and away from your body. All of you. I know how fast you people can get a weapon out.”

She shouldn’t have mentioned Chaudry’s name. It was too late now. Radko kept her arms away from her body and ensured that Han and Chaudry did likewise.

Vilhjalmsson indicated the office door. He waited for them to walk into the office, and Radko thought there might be a hint of sweat on his brow. Maybe he was weaker than he looked. Could she use that?

Chaudry moved alongside Radko. “It’s a rigid lumbar brace,” he said quietly. “He’s recently out of regen. He’s had spinal fusion. He can’t move fast.”

He’d kept his voice low, but the assassin heard him. “It makes me slow, Chaudry, but I don’t need speed for accuracy.”

The Alien Affairs Department had calculated Vilhjalmsson would be out of action for six months after Ean’s inadvertent use of line eight. “You’re walking well for someone who should still be in hospital,” Radko said.

“I am. A new surgery technique. It came from the military hospital at Goed Lutchen. Pioneering work done by Dr. Arnoud and his team. I’m sure you appreciate the irony.”

Appreciate wasn’t the word Radko would have used.

Chaudry lifted his head, almost scenting the air. “Dr. Arnoud’s team specializes in nerve and bone regeneration.”

It wasn’t knowledge Radko would expect a young recruit in Stores to pick up. Or maybe she should have, given Chaudry’s childhood game of doctors and symptoms.

They entered OneLane’s office.

The far wall was covered with screens. Each screen—except the central one—showed a view from the security cameras. The shop; outside the front door; the alley at the back. There was a door in the wall on the left, cleverly hidden in the paneling. Radko had to look twice to be sure it was a door.

The office was dominated by a huge wooden desk—made of the same black timber that Radko’s mother used for displaying her jeweled eggs—so polished they could see their reflections. The desk was bare.

Radko stepped forward, and the spear crackled hot against her cheek.

“No sudden moves,” Vilhjalmsson said.

It was more, she thought, to ensure they all respected the spear than from any worry about her moving. She touched her finger to her face. He’d gone close, but he hadn’t burned her. Even she couldn’t shoot that accurately. Especially not with a weapon that had been on a store shelf fifteen minutes ago.

“You’re very jumpy,” Han said.

“One needs to be with a soldier like her. Especially since, as Chaudry here has noted, I am a little sore at present. Right now, I intend to shoot first, before anyone gets near enough to harm me.”

It was a warning. And a threat. Radko moved back.

Vilhjalmsson glanced over to where Callista OneLane waited. “Let’s see this famous report.”

OneLane was calm. Either she’d been held at weapon point often enough to realize she was in no danger for the moment, or she had a secondary protective system, and backup was already on its way. Radko hoped it was the latter.

“I don’t give things away for free,” she said. “If you want it, you’ll have to pay for it. In fact, I would have preferred you steal it after my client left. Not here. This is bad for business.”

“I did plan on stealing it afterward,” Vilhjalmsson admitted. “Until I recognized Spacer ‘Chen,’ here.” He waved the spear at OneLane, but he spoke to Radko, “You’re not minding people anymore?”

Radko didn’t answer.

OneLane said, “I am taking a comms out of the drawer.” She’d definitely had a weapon trained on her before. “Incidentally, your own comms won’t work in this room. You can’t record. This is the only copy you will get.”

Han moved his hand to scratch his back. He was going for his weapon. Radko caught his eye and shook her head. Not yet. As Stellan Vilhjalmsson had just illustrated, Han wouldn’t stand a chance.

OneLane held up the comms, then turned it on and pushed the data through onto the larger screen in the center of the wall behind her. “The report.”

There were two logos on the title page. Redmond Fleet Military Service and TwoPaths Engineering.

So, a combined military-commercial exercise.

Radko had come across TwoPaths Engineering before. They built spaceships based around the original line ship, the Havortian. They’d had the plans for over ten years now. Line ships. Linesmen. How coincidental was that?

She crossed her arms and watched as OneLane moved the report on to the next page, which contained a list of names associated with the report. She recognized one. “Hold it.”

OneLane stopped scrolling.

The second name down. Latoya Jemsin, currently sequestered in a New Alliance prison on Haladea III, after an early incident where she’d tried to question Jordan Rossi, and failed.

“You said this was new data. Dr. Jemsin has been in prison for months. If she wrote the report, it’s old.”

“This report has been ten years in the writing. Dr. Jemsin was part of the team.” OneLane pointed to a line farther down. “You will see as we scroll through that none of the later reports are hers. Dr. Adam EightFields has taken over her work.”

If she knew this much about every illegal item she sold, then no wonder she asked so much money. Radko nodded and let her continue to scroll through the pages.

OneLane scrolled through the first ten pages of the report slowly, then flicked through others, faster, and again slowed at the end. “It’s a massive report. Ten years of data here, and their conclusions.”

“How much?” Radko asked. And how did she buy it and keep it out of Vilhjalmsson’s hands.

Movement caught her eye, and she looked up to the screens. On the screen depicting outside, soldiers jogged into view. Five in at the front. Four at the back. A full team, dressed in military uniform. Redmond soldiers.

Callista OneLane smiled.

There had to be an emergency button here in this room. OneLane must have pushed it when she’d entered. Although it had only taken five minutes to respond. With such a quick response, one could almost think the whole thing was a setup.

For Chen? Or for Vilhjalmsson?

It didn’t matter who it was for. Radko couldn’t let herself or her team be caught or questioned by Redmond soldiers.

The soldiers in the back alley had to break the lock. Good. They’d arrive a minute after the ones who came in the front.

“Chaudry, Han. Get down behind the desk. Use it to cover yourselves while you cover me.” And Radko watched carefully—one eye on the screens—to see what Vilhjalmsson would do.

He inclined his head toward the office door. Maybe, today, they were on the same side. She’d soon find out.

She nodded and pulled her blaster from the holster at her back. It was good to be armed. She took a position to the left of the door. Vilhjalmsson took the right.

The door blasted open.

OneLane’s reinforcements had arrived.

“These people are—” OneLane said, as the lead soldier glanced around quickly.

The soldier turned his weapon toward OneLane and blew her away.

Radko’s answering blast went straight to his heart. Beside him, his companion went down. She and Vilhjalmsson seemed to share the same enemies. For the moment.

They downed two more before the Redmond soldiers realized they were a threat. A blaster fired over her left shoulder took down the final soldier in the first group. Han, as accurate and reliable as Vega claimed him to be.

The soldiers hadn’t been expecting trouble, so why a full team? To prevent a back-door escape? Or to remove all witnesses?

The soldiers from the alley arrived then. They expected victory, and the battle to be over before they got there. They were seconds too slow. Radko and Vilhjalmsson stepped out and took down two each before they even knew they’d lost.