Chapter III: Arrangements

“However strong, however imposing a ship may appear, ██ is not 'disgraced' because it fl█es before the tempest. A commander ought always to remember that a man's life is worth more than the mere satisfaction of his own pride. In any case, to █e obstinate is blameable, and to be wilful is dangerous.”

~ Jules Verne, 1828 – 190█ A.D.

(Record Incomplete; Reconstruction Attempted)

507 A.E. April 24, 22:13:48 Local

Danther Minth

New Earth Imperial Order, Delan III, Red Heaven, Sol and Danther’s Apartment

It’s been several hours, and I just can’t look at him. He… he just seems so… worried. But then there’s me. He had his neural run a scan on me and I didn’t stop him—something I know I would have done if I was myself. Taking his lead, I did the same; the most likely diagnosis is that I’m in shock—stress, post trauma. I guess I can understand that. What I can’t figure out is what to do.

“Danther?” Sol asks for what must be the hundredth time.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I reply, anticipating the question.

I just wish I knew what the hell was going on. It makes no fucking sense. Nevertheless, it’s all code. A message from an amused sounding Khal indicated I am free and clear—that the debt has been paid off by a “benefactor.” I want to ask, but the less conversation with that psychopath, the better.

We’ve been swept up in some kind of game, I think—Sol and I pawns in some warped chess match. I think I know Khal well enough—hell, I don’t know him at all, really, but I know this at least—he won’t mind sacrificing pieces to win whatever game he plays—he might just do it on purpose if he finds it amusing enough.

My first instinct is to get far away as fast as possible. Nevertheless, the smart mouse doesn’t run from the cat and an insect that thrashes in the spider’s web only gets its captor’s attention.

“Sol,” I say, looking over.

“Yeah, man?”

I stare at him. “Something… something is going on here—something with layers.”

He looks down, then up at me again. He nods. “Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

507 A.E. April 24, 22:21:18 Local

Luna Veriley

New Earth Imperial Order, Delan III, Red Heaven, Dowin Engineering Planetary Headquarters

“What you obviously don’t understand, Ms. Veriley,” Mr. Khal says, intoning my name with an altogether irritating mixture of desire, amusement, and patronization, “is that one does not interfere with a superior’s business. I spent quite’a’bit’a’time—”

“If I may?” I interrupt with a practiced tone of vulnerable fear; he licks his lips, smirks, and gives me a subtle nod, awarding me a point. The assembly just stares, oblivious to our little game. “As you can see, I leveraged my personal assets to fulfill Mr. Minth’s debt, namely because this, to me at least, is a personal matter.” Viron Dowin—the CEO, for stars’ sake—regards me, interested. “I grew up with those two… they are family. I was unaware that… well it did not strike me as business, you must understand.”

“Then why have you not told them?” Mr. Khal asks, his emotionless, piercing eyes boring into me.

“They… well, they are the independent sort—to a fault, really—and…”

Khal snorts. “Well, she certainly seems to know them well enough—very well…,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I withdraw my claim.”

Viron Dowin’s mouth flickers a brief, strangely mechanical smile. “It is refreshing to see a smooth resolution to a conflict.” His gaze comes to rest on me again, this time severe and empty. “Though perhaps, young lady, you will have the foresight in the future to approach Mr. Khal with your concerns before jumping into action. The time of this council is valuable.”

“I-I—yes, sir,” I reply, bowing my head and then immediately feeling like a fool.

He leans back, taking in a great long breath through his nose. “We do not need a vote on this matter; it has been resolved. Go about your business, ladies and gentlemen.”

He waves a dismissive hand and the holograms dissolve. I collapse to the floor, shaking. It takes me several minutes to regain my composure. I won’t use chemical aid; I shouldn’t—don’t—need to rely on it for something as trivial as—

“Hello, Luna.” Shuttering, I turn, seeing Mr. Khal leaning against the door frame. He raises an eyebrow. “You look good on your knees… distracting, I dare say,” he says, and I scowl, scrambling to get up. “Ow, come now; I meant that as a complement… after all, is distraction not a useful tool for a negotiator such as yourself?”

“What are you doing here? —in Red Heaven?”

“Do you know much of Napoleon Bonaparte?”

The question catches me unprepared and I find myself more interested in the line of question than formulating a witty retort.

“He would lock himself in his chambers long before his battle were ever fought, scheming—for weeks at a time, often enough. When he would emerge, knowing the town and time where the final decisive battle would take place—zugzwang on a grand scale.”

“You have me curious, though lost,” I say, deliberately detached.

His amusement dies away. “To answer your question, Ms. Verieley, I was here to oversee the last stage of a plan I set in motion—painstakingly, I might add—come to fruition.” He holds out his arms, an expression of evidence in them. “What finer a place than Dowin’s headquarters?” he lowers his arms. “Well… that is… until one of my associates deemed it her business to interfere.”

“He was going to kill himself!”

He waves his hand. “Nao,” he says, lazily charming accent flaring.

I shake my head, moving to walk past him. He presses himself out a little and I’m forced to choose between staying in the room or brushing up against the man. I refuse to let him affect me, pressing forward. I begin walking away.

“I could have pressed for more, of course, but that’s not sportin’.”

I stop.

He chuckles. “My, it’s so easy to manipulate you.” I turn, staring at him. “One carefully crafted sentence and I can push you wherever I want.” He reaches up, stroking his chin. “Yet you’re a smart one—always seeing through—always fightin’ back,” he says, the drawl in his voice more pronounced. “Yet I anticipate that and adapt. You do likewise. That’s… what makes you so fun.”

I shake my head; anything I could say is just more of what he wants. I begin walking away again.

“I like our little chats—feels like foreplay.” I can almost feel his grin and I stop, despite myself.

I close my eyes, trying not to show my disgust. “Your unprofessionalism is becoming more and more pronounced, Mr. Khal.”

He grows silent, but I hear footsteps behind me. Having taken a couple steps, I instinctively turn, regretting it. The cold expression on his face makes me shiver. He grins. I clench my teeth.

“You’re oh, so easy to predict, Luna.”

“Ms. Veriley,” I correct.

“Ms. Veriley,” he replies. He looks away, aloof and a bit bored. “One of these days, you’ll indulge me.”

“Excuse me!” I ask, the unprecedented forwardness startling.

“One of these days, I’ll have something you want, and it’ll be important enough for you to trade.” He grins, staring back at me. “And we both already know what I want.”

“I think we’ve both seen today that I can protect my interests,” I reply with ice in my voice; I can only hope he can’t tell just how much he terrifies me.

He stares, the weight of his amused leer making me shiver. “The only thing, Luna, that I saw today, was a delectable specimen of a woman showing me exactly where she’s vul-ner-a-ble.”

I freeze. There is something about him—something about his brazen, absurdity that make me want to— “I… i-it’s Ms. Veriley!”

“Tell you what, Ms. Veriley,” he drawls, stepping up to me—close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body—looking down to meet my eyes. He reaches to me, fingers unfastening the top button of my blouse.

I-I freeze further, the very blood in my veins seeming to stop.

I-I do nothing.

Why can’t I—?

“Don’t stop me… that’ll be enough—” he unfastens another “—to distract my attention from your… family… for, hmm…,” he moves for the third, “a week, say?”

“I…,” I reply, my hand shaking as I push him away.

He laughs. “You’ve already showed you’re willing to sacrifice to protect those two. It’s only a matter of time until—”

“Damn you, Khal.”

“Such language,” he mocks.

“Fuck you, Khal!”

“Ah,” he says, laughing. “It seems we have the same idea.”

I glare at him, seething.

But then his demeanor cracks. He sighs, almost sullen. “I… I apologize. That was a bit too far—more than a bit too far.” He looks out the window, growing still. “Not the comment, but using this…,” he twirls a hand. “I should not have relied on such underhanded blackmail to get what we both want. Sometimes I just get lost in the game and just… I apologize.”

I stare at him, trying to…

“Family…,” he says, almost as if thinking to himself. He turns, eyes meeting mine. “I don’t expect you to understand as you lack the context, but… well… let’s just say I have my reasons for failing to realize and appreciate how important family should be.” A smile flickers on his face for a moment, but then disappears. “What you did… it was sweet.”

I look away, his words eliciting an unpredicted, indefinable… something in me.

“Well, I’ll be off.” I can almost hear he melancholy in his grin. “Got scheming to do.”

507 A.E. April 24, 22:34:14 Local

JP “Sol” Starwind

New Earth Imperial Order, Delan III, Red Heaven, Sol and Danther’s Apartment

I sit outside the apartment, silent. Danther sleeps, but I can’t.

“I fear I should apologize,” a drawling voice says. Khal strides out of nothingness, stopping to lean against a wall. The man—over two meters tall—somehow looks non-threatening, the sort of look any of the various enforcement-type police armatures get when powered down.

“What do you want, Khal?” I ask, cold.

“Tisk, tisk,” he says, a strong tone of amused disapproval in his voice. “Manners.”

“What do you want, Khal?” I ask again, sterner.

“I just want to repair our relationship, is all,” he says, tone innocent. “You may not have guessed it, but there was intent behind what I did.”

“This should be interesting,” I mutter.

“You see,” he says, evidently choosing to ignore my comment, “I intended to forgive Mr. Minth’s debt as soon as you two arrived at my office—intended to forgive it on the second so many years ago, in fact, once we met again.”

“Oh?” I ask, curious and annoyed in equal measure.

“Yes, well if your little benefactor hadn’t stepped in and soured my plans, I had intended to offer you two jobs.”

“Jobs?”

“It occurs to me that we have never been formally introduced. My name—which I would prefer remain between us and Danther—is Khal Dowin.”

“As in…?”

“Yuuup.”

“Why all the fuss, then?” I ask, intrigue caught by the mention of the “benefactor,” but asking will only reveal I have no idea what’s going on and I’d like to avoid that.

“Because Mr. Minth appreciates sound displays of intelligence and you, Mr. Starwind, displays of honor.” He spreads his arms. “Damn me, but it’s simple as that… just—” he rolls his wrist “—seven years drawn out, is all.”

I take a moment to reflect on the words. He’s… he’s not wrong. As far as things go, it would have been a compelling demonstration of professional courtship.

“I wanted to put you two in special program—a special accelerated course for Danther that would put that mind in a lab and get him a real mentor, rather than that A.I. he ditched.”

“And me?”

“University alternative.”

“And in English, that’s…?”

“A lot of different things… operative training.”

“What, like spy school or something?” I ask, laughing at the idea.

He chuckles too. “Nah, nah, nah. It’s just a fancy way of saying I wanted to match your training to your natural gifts.”

I nod, trying to convey the sarcasm. “Cryptic.”

“Anyway, I fear the delivery was…,” he twists his hands a little more, a distracted gesture of contemplation, “spoiled. Nevertheless, if you are interested in hearing my proposal in full, I would be more than happy to give it.”

“Well… I can’t say I won’t consider it,” I reply, not having anything to gain from souring the man further.

He grins, an expression equal parts hungry and dangerous on his face. “Good.” He pushes off from his place on the wall. “I would ask you to give Mr. Minth my regards, but I doubt he would like to hear anything from me at the moment… and, to be frank, that’s expected and understandable, considerin’…”

“Farewell, then,” I reply, a sudden wave of fatigue overtaking me.

“Likewise.”

I make my way back to bed in a haze of distracted thought and lie awake, trying to avoid using a sedative.

I shift my weight, readjusting myself to look up at the ceiling; that isn’t comfortable either.

Back when we were kids and before we were friends, I used to move a rock Danther kept on his dresser every morning before he’d get up. The others thought it was hilarious—he’d get so furious. Luna… ah Luna… three years younger and almost a foot shorter, yet she marched right up to me when she found out, glaring and screaming at me. If I’d known it was the last thing his mother ever gave him…

He liked to collect rocks from other planets.

I felt like shit for weeks after that.

I’m not sure how we became friends—how I grew apart from the rest of the kids—but things kind of just fell into place. Mother Lux always said Danther saved me—that I was going down a dark path. Funny thing is, I was the one that ended up keeping him out of trouble.

I sigh, exhausted.

Maybe being so busy keeping him in check has kept from falling off the world myself.

Who knows?

I wake a little time later, not realizing I had fallen asleep.

03:24, local time. I roll over.

“You shouldn’t trust him, Sol,” a voice says over neural.

I open my eyes to blackness, the room remaining dark despite my commands otherwise.

“Don’t! You’ll wake Danther.”

“Who is this?” I ask back, hand clasping the pistol under my pillow.

“Look to your left.”

Despite myself, I do and see noth— No… a small speck—far beyond… I zoom and… “W…walnut?”

“The A.I. inside, nugget, and I do wish you would stop calling my ship that,” she—she—says, a little annoyed.

That voice.

“What would you like me to call the ship?”

She pauses. “I’m not sure.”

“It doesn’t have a name?”

“It does,” she replies, this time contemplative. “I just don’t wish to share it yet.”

“What about you, then?”

“I don’t want to share my name, either.”

“Okay, Voice,” I answer. I… I already think I recognize the voice, but… well sometimes you let…

“What?” she asks, but sounds a little amused.

“Well you were Walnut—your ship was Walnut—when all I had to go on was stories. Now I have a voice.” I make a reflexive gesture she probably can’t see—then again, the lights in my room won’t work, so who knows. “Voice,” I conclude, mind getting back on point.

I can almost feel her in my mind—like a guest A.I.—rolling her eyes at me. “I like you, Sol. You remind me of someone.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you someday.” She pauses again, somehow both amused and serious. “That is another secret.”

I don’t know what to say.

“You and Danther…,” she says, voice trailing off.

“Yeah?”

“You’re… friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… okay.” She grows silent for a minute. “Can…? I just wanted to know…?”

“‘Can an A.I. have friends?’” I offer.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t see why not,” I say, laying back as I think. “No—purge that—they absolutely can.”

“I—o-okay!” she says, voice bubbling with contained joy.

I laugh.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just you remind me of someone too, is all.”

“Who?”

“A little girl I used to know. Her name was Luna.”

“You’re very nice, Sol,” she says, and I look up out of habit, realizing there’s no one there. I relax again.

“Why’s that?”

“You told me your name, even though I won’t tell you mine. You told me about who I reminded you of, even though I wouldn’t say who you reminded me of.” She pauses. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, laughing a little. “Sometimes it’s good to keep secrets.”

“Like how you and Danther were hiding from the bad man—Mr. Khal?”

I look up again and, again, realize there’s no one to look at. “How do you know Khal?”

“He’s tried to get in my ship over a dozen times,” she says, sounding afraid.

“That man terrifies me,” I whisper, truth of the words heavy.

“Me too,” she says, the words almost a whisper. “He tried to cut his way in and I defended myself. After that, he tried to destroy me.”

“Well, he didn’t succeed,” I say, warm with pride. “Good for you.”

“Yeah.” She laughs, but it dies away. “He’s lost interest for now, but I don’t think he’s the type to let things go.”

I chuckle, but it also fades quickly. “Yeah, that’s the truth of it.”

She’s silent for a while. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t worry, Voice.”

“Stop calling me that!” she says, but I can tell she doesn’t mean it.

“Sure thing, Voice.”

“Will you come see me tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good, it’s just—well you said…”

“That it might be the last time I came back?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. Something happened and… well, our situation’s different now.”

“Okay.” She pauses. “Sol?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you not tell anyone I was talking to you?”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

“I …yeah.”

“Okay,” I say, pausing. “I won’t.”