Aetheral Space

Minister Goley surveyed his dominion from his ship.

Caelus Breck was a travesty to look at - a burnt-out spot on the galactic map - but the money it brought in wasn't bad at all. The mining contracts, the farming potential, even the bribes local criminals paid to be overlooked made for a nice stipend. Previously, he'd had that income filtered through Rikhail's greedy fingers, but that would be an issue no longer.

There was the shadow of satisfaction there. Things hadn't gone as Goley had planned at all, but he'd come out victorious anyway. Where intelligence had apparently not been enough, luck had instead prevailed.

Well, that was fine. Goley didn't much care how he won, so long as he was the last man standing.

There was a beep from Goley's desk, the communications channel opening. He smiled faintly to himself - he'd been expecting this. Looking forward to it, as much as someone like him could look forward to things.

"I have him," came Muzazi's voice. "I'm bringing him in now."

"Very good," purred Goley, still looking out the window.

Muzazi's failure had been more complete than he'd anticipated, as well, but that was a splendid result too. Not only had he allowed a traitor to escape, but he'd failed to spot Rikhail's treachery. His desire to redeem himself would be gargantuan: that was a string Goley could pull with ease.

Potential deployments for the Special Officer raced through Goley’s head: that business on Blacklight Station, the difficulties with DJINN, the assassination of the UAP’s Captain Pierrot. Atoy Muzazi was a tool with so many possible uses - and now, he was Goley’s tool

He smiled a thin, mirthless smile. Oh, this was a favourable situation.

Goley sat behind his desk as Muzazi marched the Lord Mayor in; the wretch's hands were tied behind his back, his face red with both outrage and terror. Almost certainly he knew what was coming. Goley certainly hoped he did.

After the dissidents had fled the system - using a lightpoint set up by a local smugglers guild - they'd apparently left Rikhail on Dionysus, a bombed-out ruin from the Thousand Revolutions. The Lord Mayor's dental implants had made him easy enough to track down and bring in once he was stationary. No doubt Muzazi had been hoping to take down the traitors at the same time, but he’d been disappointed.

"Mr. Rikhail," said Goley, smiling softly. "A pleasure to see you again. I was saddened when I couldn't get in contact with you on Breck Kor."

"The complex was under attack!" blustered Rikhail. "I had … I-I had other concerns."

"Of course. I understand completely. I hope you didn't suffer too much during your captivity, Mr. Rikhail. That would pain my heart."

Rikhail looked away. "They were brutal," he said. "But I endured. That's - that's what the Supremacy is about. We endure."

Quietly, behind Rikhail, Muzazi nodded. Clearly he was the kind of person who could be swayed by pretty words. That was good to know.

"You're so right," said Goley. "So right. We endure. No matter what it takes. Is that something you'd agree with?'

Rikhail furrowed his brow. "What?"

"It would make me happy if you answered the question. Would you agree that the Supremacy endures - no matter what it takes?"

Slowly, as if trying to work out the catch, Rikhail nodded. "Yes. Of course. Victory is all."

"Victory is all, yes. But what concerns me, Mr. Rikhail, is whose victory concerns you."

Rikhail answered haltingly: "T-The Supremacy's victory, of course. I am a faithful servant.'

"The Supremacy's victory," mused Goley, nodding slowly. "A faithful servant. I see, I see … these are pleasant noises coming out of your mouth, Mr. Rikhail, but I must be honest. I think you're lying to me."

The Lord Mayor paled. "That's ridiculous," he whispered.

"Hm? You think so? But you haven't even heard my reasoning. I'd like for you to indulge me."

Rikhail didn't respond to that. He knew that any more words would only hurt him. Sadly, however, staying silent wouldn't do him any good either.

"Now that we've confirmed that Dragan Hadrien was indeed a traitor," Goley continued, steepling his fingers. "It makes me wonder about the loyalty of other personnel under my command. I'm sure you can understand my concern, can't you? The people beneath myself are like my children. Their sins are my sins. If any of them were found to be disingenuous in their loyalty, it would reflect quite badly on me, wouldn't it? That would sadden me. Do you understand?"

Rikhail nodded. "I'm a scapegoat, then."

"A scapegoat?" Goley cocked his head. "No, no, no. You are quite legitimately a traitor, I'm afraid. I've obtained quite a deal of information from your son's testimony to that effect."

The Lord Mayor looked up, eyes wide. "My son?" he said, breathless. "Prescott's alive?!"

Goley nodded. "Last time I checked, yes. When I asked, he told me about a business relationship between yourself and a local criminal called the Hyena. You were allowing this miscreant to do whatever he pleased, from what I understand."

"That's…"

"Pardon me, but I'm still speaking. It seems to me, just from where I'm sitting, that we must put your loyalty into question. And that is a question I feel I can answer - you are a traitor, Mr. Rikhail."

Rikhail gritted his teeth. "You can't just decide that on your own," he growled, voice low.

"As a matter of fact, I can. That is my role. Your role is to gracefully suffer the consequences of your betrayal."

The man rose to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. His face was twisted into scarlet indignation, his voice a high-pitched fury. "Now, listen here, Goley! I have friends in the Body, powerful friends who'll -"

There was the sound of slicing air, and Rikhail stopped talking. He looked down, brow furrowed in confusion, at the blade protruding from his chest. Flickering white light shone from between the bloodstains on the sword's surface.

Atoy Muzazi stood behind Rikhail. He had run the man through, just as Goley had directed.

"I-I…" Rikhail mumbled, shaking hand reaching for the sword going through him. He never said another word.

With a grunt of effort, Muzazi pulled the sword free, and Rikhail tumbled down to the floor - thoroughly terminated. Goley winced as a spatter of blood landed on the surface of his desk, then glanced down at his rival's corpse.

"What a stupid look on his face," he mused, cocking his head. "You'd think you'd make an effort to have a dignified expression if you knew you were going to die.'

"Perhaps he hoped for a reprieve," said Muzazi quietly.

"You think so? If that's the case, he was more idiotic than I thought."

Muzazi didn't say anything to that. He only continued to stare down at the corpse on the floor, at the crimson puddle rapidly spreading around it, before sheathing his blade. Goley glanced at the swordsman.

"I wouldn't let it trouble you, Mr. Muzazi," he said soothingly. "If the man wasn't a traitor, he was incompetent enough that he might as well have been. His death is a boon for the Supremacy."

"I suppose."

"Of course you do. You're a bright young man." Affirmation and shame in equal measure. Those were the levers that controlled people like Atoy Muzazi.

"I know for a fact he was a traitor," Muzazi continued. "His son lied to me many times, and I believed him, but by the end he was in no state to continue his falsehoods."

"I see. Well, that will be all for now."

Goley turned to his script, already tapping away. With Rikhail dead, he had a great many things to arrange - his successor, for one. He'd need someone he had a tight hold on to act as his proxy in Breck Kor, and there were only a few candidates with the necessary experience. Saxton, maybe, or perhaps Timor?

"He told me of a great many things." Muzazi was still talking for some reason, his voice quiet to Goley's uninterested ears. "Mr. Prescott was superb in his duplicity. The information he had gained access to … to be frank, I couldn't believe it at first."

"That so?" said Goley, scrolling through economic reports on his script. He'd need to make some adjustments to taxes on the other planets in the Caelus system, but that would be fine. Rikhail would serve as a fine example for the Lord Mayors on the other two worlds if they thought about protesting.

"He knew about the Lord Mayor," Muzazi continued. "But he also knew about you."

Goley paused, finger hovering over his script. That last sentence from Muzazi hadn't fit his expectations. Goley looked up. "Excuse me?"

Muzazi stepped forward, over Rikhail's body. There was a stern look in his eyes. "He told me about your intentions regarding Dragan Hadrien. How you'd intended for me to fail in my mission. How you intended for me to disgrace myself from the beginning."

"That's absurd," said Goley calmly. "You'd believe the nonsense rambled by a traitor?"

"Yes. I confirmed these things many times with him, in many different ways." Muzazi took another step forward, leaving a bloody footprint behind.

Goley sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You must understand, Mr. Muzazi, that for people in my position it's vital that we make full use of every resource at our disposal. That, of course, includes our personnel. Any actions I took were in the interest of ensuring you achieved your full potential in this matter, and for bringing about the best possible resolution to this situation - for both you and myself."

This confrontation was irritating, but not especially concerning. Muzazi was a gullible sort, and a few pretty words that appealed to his sense of duty would go a long way. Outrage came easy to these types, but could be dispelled just as quick if you knew what you were doing.

"I understand completely, sir," Muzazi nodded.

The tension in Goley's shoulders, that he hadn't even realized was there, eased. He went back to his script. Now that Muzazi's ego was soothed, he could get back to important matters.

"However," Muzazi continued. "The fact remains that you attempted to manipulate me as well. I'm afraid I cannot permit that, sir."

Goley looked up from his script again, ready to correct Muzazi's arrogance, but stopped short just before he spoke. His eyes widened. Muzazi's sword was in his hand again, pale Aether shining out of it like moonlight.

"Now hold on just a moment there, boy," Goley said quietly, getting out of his seat and backing up a little. "Let's not do anything rash here. I am your superior officer."

"Incorrect, sir," said Muzazi, walking around the desk and approaching Goley unnervingly quickly. "As a Special Officer, I operate outside the conventional command structure. While I have obeyed your orders until now, I am by no means obligated to."

Goley thumped into the window, running out of room to move back. He held up a placating hand. "Now, now, think about this. There'll be no benefit in this for you, no profit. Consider your actions. Come now."

"I have considered them thoroughly, sir," said Muzazi, raising his sword overhead. "Please don't be concerned - I informed a cleaning crew before coming here."

This wasn't fair. This was absurd. He couldn't die in such a stupid, idiotic way. After all the machinations and contingencies, he'd be killed by the temper tantrum of some wannabe warrior? It made no sense! Who did Muzazi think he was?!

Their eyes met. Goley understood who Atoy Muzazi was. He was a sleeping bear, and Goley had shook him awake thinking him a dog.

"Did you enjoy it?" asked Muzazi, deathly quiet. "Making puppets out of people?"

The sword came down. For the first time in his life, Minister Goley felt fear.

And then he felt nothing at all.