Aetheral Space

Rikhail did his best to conceal his anxiety as he mechanically chewed his steak. While his knife cut through the meat with satisfying ease, he couldn't help but draw a connection between the eating utensil and the sword of the man at the other end of the table. The Lord Mayor found himself wishing he didn't like his meat quite so bloody.

"It must have been a dull journey planetside," Rikhail said, grasping for conversation.

"Not at all," said Muzazi, with that damnable neutrality in his tone.

He and the Special Officer - this Atoy Muzazi - sat in the Lord Mayor's private quarters, the automatic furniture having shifted itself into a meal configuration. A round table with cloth draped over it like a wedding dress over a bride, the lights above dimmed to provide a relaxing atmosphere. The night city of Breck Kor lay bare outside the window, lights glittering in the dark like a reflection of the stars above.

Rikhail took another bite of his steak. Atoy Muzazi just sat there; he had refused the offer of a meal.

That was worrying. That implied he wasn't the kind of man who could be bought. The Lord Mayor knew now that the Special Officer was here to search for this Hadrien brat, but if he caught a whiff of any of Rikhail's personal activities that would be the end of him.

"How do you, ah," Rikhail tapped his fork against his plate. "How do you intend to proceed? With the search?"

Muzazi replied immediately, like this was a conversation he'd rehearsed many times. "There's specialized hardware inside Hadrien's cadet suit. That gives us something to track. Likely the criminals have disabled it already, but it's our best starting point."

Rikhail nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, of course. And, um, failing that…?"

"We will have to begin a less peaceful search. Interrogation of figures who may have come into contact with the criminals - they'll require repairs, after all. Arrests will have to be made."

Rikhail paled. Being in custody wasn't even an inconvenience for the Hyena, but he'd take it as an unforgivable insult. "Is that so?" he said quietly.

"Yes. There's no need to be afraid - I've conducted operations like this before."

"I'm not afraid."

"Please don't lie," frowned Muzazi. "It's unbecoming of your position."

This little shit. He thought just because he was a Special Officer, he could look down on him? This Muzazi had achieved his position by being able to swing a sword around - or so his records said - while Rikhail had worked for it. Years upon years of nurturing friendships, building connections and calling in favours until he'd been able to get this position from behind the Minister's back.

He tightened his grip on his steak knife. Oh, how he'd love to. But not yet.

"I appreciate the advice," Rikhail said as calmly and evenly as he could. "My men are, as always, at your disposal, Mr. Muzazi."

Muzazi rose from his seat, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. For a moment, Rikhail's heart jumped, but when no attack came he realized that was just the Special Officer's neutral stance.

"Of course," the swordsman said, nodding respectfully. "We have to deal with this quickly, else it will cause a great deal of trouble for the Minister."

And with that, he left the room, presumably off to begin the search he'd been talking about. Good riddance. Although, he'd given out a nugget of useful information before he left.

It will cause a great deal of trouble for the Minister, eh?

Goley had been trying to get rid of him for years. Doubtless this little episode was another attempt to do that, at least on some level. But he'd made a mistake - he'd let Rikhail know about this threat to his reputation.

If things went well, Goley could survive the humiliation of it. If they didn't, judging eyes would begin wondering if he was really fit for his throne.

Rikhail's mouth twisted from a flat line into a smirk into a grin. To tell the truth, Lord Mayor had been the utmost extent of his ambitions, but those words from Muzazi had opened up the path to a new position.

Minister Rikhail. It was achievable.

And all Dragan Hadrien had to do was die.

-

Minister Goley often thought that he made a fine show of anger for one who had never felt it. Speaking more broadly, he'd never felt sadness or fear, either, but his anger performance was what he was truly proud of.

He had never felt fear, but he understood how it worked. The right biological indicators in him triggered the ones he wanted in others. He assumed it was only natural for a subordinate to experience fear when presented with a shouting, ranting superior. He had chosen the majority of his direct subordinates because he understood how they reacted to such stimuli, after all.

Goley's eyes drifted over the half-a-dozen holographic screens arranged in front of the window - the space-black background providing a fine contrast to the images and text.

After the incident, he'd retreated to his personal craft to begin planning his response. The Starsailer had been a gift from the Third Minister, a thank-you present for voting for him in the last Body election. Goley understood that it was aesthetically beautiful, and the quiet available on it was a welcome contrast from the noise and bustle of a military craft.

Today's items of interest didn't quite live up to their name. Economic reports from Caelus Breck, Noon and Rett displayed no variance of note, the Supreme still showed no signs of leaving the Sheshanaga - thank goodness they didn't have that to worry about - and the conflict with the UAP didn't seem to be developing much at all.

He was still awaiting a report from Special Officer Muzazi, but he had no doubt that would arrive soon. Muzazi was one of those people afflicted with the disease called loyalty. Goley could insult the man to his face and he would obey, simply because he'd promised to do so.

It was a debilitating condition, but a useful one. One that certain others lacked.

With a flick of his wrist, Goley brought up the file on Lord Mayor Johnston Rikhail. Rikhail's existence was quite the irritating thing for him. He took great pride in selecting his direct subordinates personally, and yet this man had crawled into his infrastructure like one of the insects that infested that planet of his.

Goley wasn't entirely sure, but he felt that he must hate Johnston Rikhail.

He'd found himself thinking on the Rikhail problem quite often lately. Could he simply have him killed? No - inelegant, and it made Goley seem like one of those brutes that governed the Dranell Breaches. He liked to be seen as one with a fine, careful hand rather than an iron fist.

To Anton Goley, life was a sequence of accumulating assets and deleting obstacles. It seemed to him he had an opportunity to do both here.

Special Officer Muzazi was a superb asset - his recommendation by the GID had been well-earned. But once this incident concluded, he'd inevitably move on to another assignment, and be of no further use to Goley. If Muzazi experienced failure, however, his desire for redemption would make a fine leash to control him with.

Lord Mayor Johnston Rikhail had rooted himself deep into Breck Kor's infrastructure, forming relationships with the local crime lords - oh, he thought nobody knew, but the man wasn't nearly as clever as he thought he was. Still, he was a weed that was difficult to pull out. Only the finest grade of scandal, spun carefully and properly, could justify it to his misguided supporters.

Minister Goley smiled a thin smile. There was a way for him to achieve everything he wanted.

And all Dragan Hadrien had to do was die.

-

"Do you ever wonder?" Serena said, a finger to her chin.

What Serena del Sed was doing to the chair beneath her couldn't be called sitting. There are a number of factors humans generally agreed needed to be met before you were considered to be sat on something, and she was meeting none of them.

It was more like she was a bird making a nest … no, it wasn't even like that. That implied some sort of biological instinct went into this little maneuver, rather than the girl's lunacy. Limbs were pointing in every direction, legs crossed over arms. It was like she had become a human pretzel.

A chill went down Dragan's spine. Did this girl truly find such a position relaxing? Insanity.

"Wonder what?" said Bruno. It was a little disorientating, watching one body switch between two personalities so quickly. Their face snapped from one expression to another so quickly Dragan was surprised it wasn't painful. It was certainly painful for him; his Cogitant instincts were getting whiplash from trying to observe the inconsistent body language, and it was giving him a hell of a migraine.

They were sat in the disused hangar Skipper had landed his ship in. He and Ruth Blaine were in the ship itself, presumably hiding anything they didn't want the Hyena to know about. Serena, Bruno and Dragan were sat on empty crates in the hangar space itself. It seemed guard duty had fallen to the dynamic duo.

Serena continued: "Wondered about horses."

"What's a horse?" Bruno said.

The girl frowned. "Zachary used to talk about them all the time! They were his favourite! You forgot?"

"Yes. What are they?"

"Well," Serena dragged the word out, her indignation apparently replaced with an eagerness to teach. "They're these four-legged animals - all furry - and people climb on them and ride them around. They're from Home."

"I see," Bruno nodded. "Why were you wondering about them?"

"It makes me think - you know, horses are only good at being ridden because there were people who wanted to ride them. So, um, horses adapted over a couple of years and now they're fast and you can put a saddle on them. Right?"

"It took more than just a couple of years, but sure."

"But what if, like … we'd ridden dogs instead?"

"We? You and me?"

"No, like, people in general. Wouldn't dogs be good at being ridden if we'd been riding them all along?"

"I don't know."

"But do you think so? That's how it worked with horses, so it should be the same."

"I really couldn't say."

Dragan was in hell. The last hour or so had been filled with inane conversations just like this one. Serena del Sed just kept on spouting this kind of nonsense like it was genius that she'd been the first to uncover.

No matter how clearly disinterested Bruno was, she wasn't discouraged - in fact, that seemed to encourage her. Was she trying to be annoying, then, or did it just come naturally? Dragan honestly couldn't tell, which in itself was a little frightening.

"What do you think, Mr. Dragan?" Serena smiled, turning to look at him.

Oh God no.

"About what?" he said, looking away. He wouldn't antagonize this person - Bruno seemed the sort to beat the shit out of him if he did - but he certainly wasn't going to pretend to be friendly.

"About the horses. Like, do you think if we'd ridden dogs around early on, they'd be bigger and stronger now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Dragan suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and groan. He'd messed up. He'd become part of the conversation. "Well, I mean … that's evolution, right? If humans wanted dogs to ride around on, they'd take better care of the bigger, stronger ones - and then those ones would pass on their genes. So the species would get bigger and stronger over time."

The girl cocked her head. "What would happen to the smaller, weaker ones, then?"

"Well, they'd probably die out."

Serena widened her eyes and the smile dropped from her face. "No…"

"Well, it doesn't even matter," said Dragan, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dogs aren't the kind of animals you'd ride around on in the first place, so people wouldn't breed them for that. Horses were probably already big and strong enough to carry people, so the ones that could be ridden around got protected by humans and were able to pass their genes on."

Serena put a hand to her chin, nodding sagely. "You're real smart, Mr. Dragan."

He smiled hopefully. "Smart enough for you to let me go? I won't tell anyone."

Serena switched with Bruno, who scowled. "No. Don't assume she's stupid."

"Worth a shot." Dragan shrugged. Bruno del Sed's edgy ruffian act was easy to get used to; he didn't have much in his repertoire save for scowling and the occasional physical intimidation.

Bruno glared at Dragan and went to stand up - only for Serena to sit back down.

"No fighting," she said, crossing her arms. "We're all gonna be good buddies here - right, Mr. Dragan?"

“You kidnapped me!”

The girl smiled. "Yeah, but we're gonna let you go after!"

Before Dragan could reply to that idiotic statement, two sharp clanging noises rang out from inside the ship - the main doors unlocking. A second later, they screeched open, Skipper and Blaine clambering out.

The captain held his script in his hand, tapping a finger against it. "You kids playing nice?"

Now it was Dragan's turn to scowl. "Fuck you."

"Always a pleasure, Mr. Hadrien." Skipper stuffed his script back into his pocket. "We've got everything that needs hiding hid - just in time, too. Ruth, unlock the hangar. I'll let the Hyena's engineers in."

"Right," said Blaine, an amused glance sliding off of Dragan's face. She thought his animosity was something cute, like a particularly rowdy puppy. Oh, he'd wipe that smile off her face come the end of all this.

As Blaine worked the controls, the red light hanging over the hangar doors switched to green, and Skipper approached as they slid open.

Beyond the doors were ten engineers, clad from head to toe in thick overalls and protective masks. Skipper extended a hand for the one in front, a stout man, to shake.

"Howdy, fellas," he grinned. "She's a fixer-upper, but you'll learn to love her."

As one, the group of engineers pulled rifles out from the folds of their protective gear, pointing them directly at Skipper. Ten red sighting lasers danced for supremacy across his face.

Skipper blinked. "Was it something I said?"

And then the fighting started.