"In one hour I will address the Elven Council of Worlds at a special assembly on a matter of grave urgency. I have neither the time nor the inclination to pander to your foolish questions, high captain. You have exactly five minutes, boy, before I have you bodily thrown out."
Admiral Nyntoch was sitting behind a gigantic oak desk, a full-color chart of some sphere Reanyn did not know on the wall behind him. At the moment his expression was a mixture of irritation, disdain, and dislike.
"I appreciate your willingness to see me," said Reanyn evenly. "I have a few questions pertaining to the death of Colonel Alynium."
"I fail to see how I have anything to do with the matter," said the admiral.
"Actually sir," said Reanyn, "I had intended to pose my questions to Second Lieutenant Dainvillo but I am informed that the man is unavailable."
The admiral gave the barest hint of a nod. "Dainvillo has been reassigned; he is no longer attached to this office. You had better not start asking me questions meant for him, high captain, not if you don't want me to lose my temper. I have serious duties, high captain. Don't waste my time."
"Where has Dainvillo been reassigned."
The admiral sat back, a slightly condescending look on his face. "I don't see that that is any concern of yours."
"I would like very much to interview him. It is possible that he was an eyewitness to the colonel's murder."
"Absurd," barked the admiral. "Dainvillo's testimony is recorded in Commandant Geyrrin's investigative journal. He said nothing whatever of seeing any murder. Dainvillo was here, in my office, during the time of the colonel's death. If you had bothered to check Geyrrin's notes, you would see that I myself testified to that fact. Suggesting that Dainvillo was anywhere near the murder is tantamount to calling me a liar."
Reanyn shook his head. "I apologize admiral," he said carefully, "I misspoke. I only meant that I would like to interview the second lieutenant myself. It is possible that Dainvillo saw something while he was there which might give some clue to what happened."
"You act as though there were some great mystery," said the admiral sharply. "Colonial Alynium was killed by a scro infiltrator. The only mystery is how the killer escaped."
And who the killer was, thought Reanyn silently. And why Col. Alynium was killed. And who the insectare was. And why he was there. And why he was killed...
"In any case," said the admiral, "I am afraid that an interview with Dainvillo is quite out of the question. He has been reassigned."
"To where?"
The admiral crossed his arms. "To a more sensitive assignment. It is need-to-know only. And you do not have clearance."
Reanyn felt a flare of anger, fought it down. "In my capacity as investigator, sir," he said evenly, "I was given to understand that I had broad powers--"
"Don't spout drivel to me, boy," snapped the admiral. "I know your commission; I wrote it. In matters pertaining to your investigation you have some powers; the second lieutenant, in my estimation, doesn't qualify. Dainvillo is off limits to you. Even if he wasn't, he's off station now and unreachable. So the answer to your question is no, you cannot interview him. His written testimony will have to suffice. Do you have any other questions for me, or may I get back to my work?"
Reanyn nearly made an angry remark. "When was he reassigned, admiral? And how long ago did he depart the station?"
The admiral gave him a hard look. "Classified. I think we're done here, high captain. I've been more than generous thus far, but you seem to be asking the same questions again and again. You have my answer, high captain. Dainvillo is not available for interrogation. Now, you may leave of your own accord or I can call my guardsmen to have you escorted out. Either way, this interview is over."
"It's just in there, sir. I'm certain you'll find the rooms more than adequate."
Weary and frustrated after his encounter with the admiral, Reanyn had directed the corporal to lead him to his quarters. There was nothing more to be done at the moment, and after the long voyage to Lionheart aboard Telstrike and the busy day he had spent since arriving, he was beginning to tire.
He wasn't exhausted by any stretch; after taking command of the imperial ship Vengeance he had stood his post for three days, directing the surviving ships of the Third Fleet in a race against death. Hiding in asteroid belts, fleeing the pursuing scro, fighting when he had to. Short on men, short on supplies, short on weaponry, short on luck - he had done what he had to in an impossible situation. Those were tense days. The men had been broken and on the verge of routing. On the verge of mutiny. With the food gone, some crews had been forced to cannibalize the dead. They had looked to him to save them, and he had done his best. Not all had lived, no. He could still hear the screams on the armada Skytalon as the flames rose and the men burned alive. Some had leapt into the void, plunging beyond the air envelope, burning like living torches. Screaming and writhing...
Most had survived. He had saved most of them. He tried to remember that, but it was not the survivors that haunted his sleep. Rather it was the faces of the ones he had failed who came to him again and again. The rigors of battle he knew well; he had faced it again and again. But to have responsibility for the lives of so many others... that was the burden. That was exhaustion.
"Sir?"
The corporal's voice startled him from his reverie. He looked from the open door before him back to the wood elf. "Thank you, corporal," he said. "I'm certain they'll do. You may go."
The wood elf half nod and backed off a step. "Very good, sir. If you need anything, I'll be just down the hall,"—he pointed to a smaller door opposite—"or you can ask the guard on duty."
Reanyn nodded again, entered the bedchamber and closed the door.
Then looked around in wonder at the opulence of the place. Had the corporal said he would find it `more than adequate'? The description fell short. Far short.
He had expected to be quartered with the troops in the barracks housed within one of the dock sections, but the corporal had led him to a large, spacious building he had referred to as the Embassy. A gigantic marble building, it housed the offices and living spaces for any foreign delegations that might be visiting Lionheart. Of course most of the building was empty, as the current High Admiral had a policy against allowing any but the greatest allies to the Fleet access to the station.
The Embassy, more than any other structure, was built to impress visiting dignitaries, and the chamber Reanyn was in reflected that. Although it was probably built to cater to the needs of a minor diplomat, it was still incredibly large. The ceiling towered at least fourteen feet overhead, and was curved and rounded where it met the walls, lending a dome-like effect. The walls were hung with exotic paintings from place to place—excellent work which depicted typical scenes of elven life in space—imperial ships, distant worlds, starscapes... There was even a sculpture standing on a pillar near the door, a carving of some elven male's face. Reanyn guessed that it was modeled after a former admiral or fleet leader, though he did not recognize it.
The floor near the door was mirror-smooth marble, ingrained with elven symbols and paintings here and there (the symbol for safe haven was, by tradition, just in front of the door). But farther into the chamber there were two steps down onto a lower floor, which was plushly carpeted.
Reanyn stepped down into this main chamber and looked around. There was a massive bed to his right set along the wall, a high four poster with an upper framework hung with silks and white nearly-transparent curtains all the way around. Beside it was an open door which led into a closet, within which were hanging fresh uniforms and other clothing. The carry-all bag he had brought with him had been taken by a porter at the docks. He supposed the clothing had been delivered here and hung up by someone, but... He looked closer, surprised. There was far more clothing hanging here than he had brought. A quick glance at the three closest uniforms (two regular, one dress) revealed that the insignia sewed on the shoulder and breast was that of a high captain. All of Reanyn's uniforms had displayed his former rank, lieutenant captain, including the jacket he wore now.
He turned back into the main chamber. On the far wall was a set of open glass doors, beyond which a small railed balcony extended a few feet. Two silk curtains hung down in front of it, gently swaying in the gentle breeze wafting in from outside. To the left was a hall.
Reanyn turned into it and discovered that it led to a smaller guest bedroom and a washroom which was complete with a bathtub, (an unheard of luxury!) sink, and privy, all with running water (another astonishing luxury). The floor was tiled and above the washstand hung a gigantic polished mirror, gilded with brass on each edge.
Comfortable, thought Reanyn, surveying it all. Too comfortable. I'm afforded every luxury, as if I were a visiting dignitary. And yet a simple request to interview a possible eyewitness is met with hostility. I am given an impossible investigation that is weeks old by the time I come to it, and blocked at every turn when I try to probe. Why?
Reanyn went to the mirrored washstand and splashed some of the cold water from the washbucket onto his face. When he looked up at himself again, he gave a violent start. Standing calmly behind him was a uniformed elf he had never seen before.
The man met his eyes with a clear gaze. "High Captain Al'Nuoth," he said. It was not a question.
Reanyn whirled. "Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get in here?"
The man shook his head. "I've been here for several hours, waiting for you. You don't know me, sir, but I've some information to pass on to you. My name is Jevar Dainvillo."
Second Lieutenant Jevar Dainvillo was tall for an elf, standing nearly six feet in height with a well-formed whipcord thin body. His hair was cropped short and the same color as his eyes: steel grey. He was older than Reanyn, but not by much. Like most elves, his face was handsome and elegantly formed, but there was an air of sobriety about him. He was intelligent but well-grounded, serious and almost humorless. There was an edge of hardness to him as well.
"I was told you'd been transferred off station, lieutenant."
Dainvillo's eyebrow lifted. "Transferred? Not to my knowledge, sir. Though the cover story doesn't surprise me. I went to ground a week ago, sir, after the first assassination attempt."
Reanyn was surprised. "Assassination attempt? Against you?"
The lieutenant jerked a quick nod. "That's why I'm here, sir. I learned that you were the officer investigating Colonel Alynium's elimination. And that you were brought in from off station. I'm taking a great risk, sir, coming to see you."
Elimination? thought Reanyn. It seemed a strange word to describe what had happened to Col. Alynium. Until now he had heard the event referred to as `death' or `murder'. He had had several questions he wanted to put to Dainvillo, but the lieutenant's strange turn of phrase, and his reference to an assassination attempt made Reanyn change his mind about asking. Instead he decided to let the lieutenant tell his story himself. "Why did you come?" he asked aloud.
Dainvillo was quiet for a moment, a mixture of emotions playing across his face. Finally he said: "I don't know if I can trust you, sir, but I know I can't trust anyone else. And my younger brother served under you, aboard the man-o-war Thornstar."
Reanyn felt a stab of pain at the name. The Thornstar had been lost with all hands. "I'm sorry," he said.
Dainvillo lowered his head. "You did everything you could, sir. I read the reports. It caused dissention among the higher-ups, you taking charge. But I read the reports, and I could tell you must be a good man. So... I trust you."
Reanyn said nothing, only gave a slight nod and waited for the man to continue.
"You must understand, sir," said Dainvillo at last, "that I was a soldier, like any other. My training was different; it had to be. But the things I've done, the work I've done... it was for the Fleet, and the protection of elves everywhere."
"I don't understand," said Reanyn. "I was given to understand that you were a second lieutenant attached to Admiral Nyntoch's offices."
Dainvillo nodded. "That is so, and this is my rank. But I am a trained Tyliath-Venhi'er, and have served in that capacity for nearly thirty years."
Reanyn felt his breath catch in his throat. Tyliath- Venhi'er! There were many elite forces in the Imperial Fleet—the Dyvyth Raistus or the Se'shain Novu, or even the Noble Knights of the Akh'Imprius that served as Imperial Guardsmen to the High Admiral himself—but none were more mysterious and deadly than the Tyliath-Venhi'er, the shadow arm of the Intelligence division. Operatives of the Tyliath-Venhi'er were trained for espionage and intelligence—infiltration deep into enemy territory, disguise, assassination... Officially, the Fleet denied their existence, though Reanyn had long suspected there was something to the rumors of them.
"Those of us who are selected for service as Tyliath- Venhi'er have a certain... psychological profile, as you may imagine. But I am a loyal Fleet officer, sir, and always have been. The things I've done, they were done in the service of the Fleet, sir."
Reanyn gave a somber nod. The lieutenant seemed to want him understand this point; he had stressed it twice.
"When I receive orders to eliminate a man, I am not always told why. I assume that my superiors are acting on accurate intelligence and on behalf of the Fleet. I do not question my orders, not when lawfully given. Until..."
The man's voice trailed off into silence. "Until?" prompted Reanyn.
"Nearly three weeks ago I was given a target package. A scro operative had infiltrated the station and needed to be neutralized. He'd gone to ground and there was no intel on how to locate him, but it was known the scro was here to meet a traitor who would pass him sensitive documents. The identity of the traitor was also unknown, but there was reliable intel on where and when the meeting would take place. My orders were to eliminate both parties and retrieve whatever documents the traitor had compromised."
Dainvillo shook his head. "The whole thing was wrong, right from the beginning. I had been recalled to Lionheart from deep in the field, leaving behind a mission that was on the verge of success. I returned and received my new orders less than one day before the event itself would take place." He gave Reanyn a somber look. "That never happens, not in my kind of work. Not even in emergencies. Not that I ever heard of."
He shook his head again. "And then there was the intel. Somehow we knew that there was an infiltrator and a traitor on station, but we didn't know who either was. That happens sometimes, when get partial intelligence from the other side, but knowing where and when they would meet... that just wasn't right. Not for real scro infiltrators. If we had a man on the other side, feeding us intelligence, maybe he could get his hands on information about an infiltrator and a traitor being on station. Maybe. But for him to pass us intel on when and where the two would meet, that would mean that someone on the other side had that information in the first place. And that it was common knowledge among the scro higher-ups. I never heard of an infiltrator that was that sloppy. I sure as the abyss wouldn't be, if it were me meeting a scro traitor. No-one on our side would know the where and when of me meeting him. I'd choose the time and place myself, at my discretion as I read the situation."
He seemed to be looking for confirmation, so Reanyn nodded again. He knew nothing of high level espionage, but it made sense.
"So the whole thing just didn't seem right. I was being brought in late to handle a situation that didn't seem right. So I knew there was something they weren't telling me. Now, that's not out of the ordinary. In my line, the higher-ups don't tell you everything, not most of the time. But part of my mission was the way in which they wanted the principles eliminated. The infiltrator they wanted disappeared, killed quietly. The traitor they wanted very visible; it was supposed to look like the scro had pegged him. They even furnished me with a scro weapon to do the job."
"Which explains the crossbow bolt," said Reanyn.
The lieutenant nodded. "Don't ask me why they wanted it to look scro; I haven't figured that part yet. And, as I said, I had my orders and they were, I thought, lawfully given. The thing felt a little wrong, but I am a soldier. I did the mission, just the way I was instructed. Go to the Astrolabe under the cover of retrieving a spherechart for the admiral—an old chart that apparently had already been taken from the tower ahead of time and of which there were no other known copies. Therefore the chart would be impossible to find, and the staff would be set on a search of the lower levels of the tower. The purpose was twofold. It gave me a official excuse to be there, and it would keep the staff occupied, busy, and away from the Astrolabe itself. There were to be no witnesses, and both targets were known to be dangerous, so keeping them occupied was also a protective measure to some extent. After the search was underway, I was easily able to slip out and make my way up to the Astrolabe proper. I was given the codes and authority to program the Astrolabe with a relatively simple illusion, one which would hide me as I lay in wait for the targets. The instrument is voice activated, so I had rehearsed the exact words to speak many times before actually doing it."
The lieutenant paused for a moment before continuing. "And then... they arrived. The infiltrator arrived first—I couldn't know that at the time, though. I knew that the traitor would be a real elf and the infiltrator an insectare, but from across the room I couldn't tell. He just looked like a uniformed elf from where I stood.
"The infiltrator was early, and it was maybe twenty minutes before the traitor showed. He paced back and forth in the meantime, eyeing the trapdoor, and once he almost walked right into me. The illusion was strictly visual, not auditory, and though I'm well trained in stealth it was hard to keep from stepping out of his path when he came straight toward me. But he might have heard my footstep, so close was he, and that might have spooked him, tipped him off.
"So I was already a little tense myself by the time the traitor finally showed. I had the crossbow ready and I was ready to use it and get the job done. I was standing behind the trapdoor, so that those coming up would have their back to me."
Reanyn nodded. "I assumed as much, from the angle the crossbow bolt must have come from."
"I chose the spot because it was unlikely that anyone would walk there—though the infiltrator nearly did—and compromise my hiding place. But what I hadn't taken into account was that someone coming up the stairs would have his back to me, that I wouldn't be able to see the face... When the traitor appeared, I raised my crossbow and waited. I didn't fire immediately; I couldn't know for certain that he even was the traitor. Any of the staff working in the tower could have wandered up there for one reason or another—I had to wait until he made contact with the infiltrator and confirmed that he actually was the traitor and not an innocent bystander.
"The infiltrator had halted near the black table—you have seen the room?—and he was facing towards me as the traitor entered. The traitor halted at the top of the stairs, his back still to me. He said `You are the one they sent?' and the infiltrator nodded.
"The traitor's voice was familiar to me, though I could not place it. But he had just confirmed that he was the traitor, and I was set to peg him. Still I did not fire, for the other part of my mission was to retrieve whatever documents the traitor had taken, as you will recall. I had to know that the documents were present, or whether the traitor might have secured them elsewhere.
"To my surprise, though, it was the infiltrator who pulled a sheaf of papers from an inner pocket. `This is the proposal,' he said, slowly circling the other man and then holding it out to him. `It is possible that some compromise may be reached.'
"Now I wasn't paying too much attention to what he was saying, not at that moment anyway, though I did give it a good deal of thought after the fact. All I knew was that I had my target and all factors were present. In my work, hesitation can mean the difference between success and failure. I took aim on the traitor and fired.
"That's when he turned, naturally following the motion of the insectare, and I saw his face for the first time. I stress this: I did not see his face until I had fired. That was the first moment I knew that the `traitor' was Colonel Alynium. Would I have fired had I known? I have pondered that question. I think I would have, my training is too ingrained.
"I was in shock, but I forced myself to think only of the situation at hand. Insectare can be deadly; I could not afford to hesitate. I had secured a blowgun and several darts tipped with poison. You may think this a strange weapon when facing a creature as dangerous as an insectare, but the poison was discovered by Fleet intel some time ago and is utterly and instantly lethal to any insectare, though it will only make a normal elf very sick. I did not even see the crossbow bolt strike the colonel. To my mind, he was already a dead man and I was focused on the second target. I raised the blowgun to my lips and the dart flew. My aim was good, and the insectare had not even had time to turn when it caught him in the back of the neck. He dropped like a stone.
"At the same moment as I fired, some young idiot stuck his head up through the trapdoor. He was facing away from me, so I never saw his face, but he screamed and snatched the trapdoor down, slamming it. I heard the rasp as he drew the bolt, locking me in, but my mind was racing."
He was quiet for a moment. "I was not well acquainted with Colonel Alynium, sir. I suspect I would never have been chosen for this mission if my superiors had been aware that I knew him at all. I had in fact only met him twice before in my life, but I knew of him. He had served honorably and well with my father, and in fact had saved his life. My father is a cripple, sir, missing both legs beneath the knee, but he would be dead were it not for the colonel. And my father spoke of him often... I could not believe that the man was a traitor.
"But I had only instants to act. The young fool who had locked the trapdoor would be fleeing down the stairs to get the guardsmen. I estimated that I had only seconds before they arrived. I had not time to think of what I had done. I had to act.
"I raced to the body of the insectare, and quickly retrieving the papers he held I pulled him back into the corner where I had hidden. Originally I had intended to take his body out of the Astrolabe with me when I left, but this was now impossible. The place would be flooded with guardsmen in moments. If I was fortunate, I could get out, but not with the body. So I determined to hide it. Quickly I reprogrammed the illusion to cover both myself and the body—just in time, for mere moments later the trapdoor swung open and the first guardsmen entered.
"I had shoved the body against the curve of the wall, and I stood before it. If one of the guardsmen had happened to walk a few paces in that direction... but they never did, and soon more guardsmen arrived, and more, until the room was nearly filled. Then the investigating commandant arrived with his assistant, and ordered the room cleared. That was when I left."
"You left?" asked Reanyn, surprised. "How?"
The lieutenant shrugged. "I had come prepared for a difficult exit. I was clothed in the same armor and uniform as the tower guardsmen. Once the room was suitably filled with them, I merely stepped from my hiding place. No-one took any particular notice of me, then or later as I made my way from the tower. It's a simple trick, sir; I've used it before.
"I escaped the tower unseen, but due to the complications I exited late. This meant I had missed my window for regrouping with those who had given me my mission. This wasn't a problem; I had a secondary and a tertiary fallback plan. But it meant I had several hours to kill before I would see them. I found a safe place and laid low. But all I could think of was Colonel Alynium, and how wrong the whole thing had been..." His voice trailed off for a moment, and he looked away. "I had the papers I had taken from the insectare. My orders were that I should return them to my superiors unopened. But..." He shook his head angrily. "I opened them at last. Read them. And what I discovered was that Colonel Alynium was no traitor. That I had slain an innocent man. I had been used as a tool for a political assassination."
Both men jumped at a sudden knock at the door.
"I must go," said the lieutenant quickly. "They'll be watching you, watching to see if I'll make contact. I've evaded them so far, but I'm taking a terrible chance, talking to you." He turned to the open doors leading out to the balcony.
"Wait," said Reanyn, "you still haven't told me--"
"Seven hours," said Dainvillo, giving him a quick look. "Go to the Garden. If it's safe for me to contact you then, I will. If not I'll find another time. I'll bring the packet the insectare carried. With it, and my testimony, there should be proof enough to set the matter right."
Again there was a persistent knock at the door, and Reanyn instinctively glanced back in that direction. "Who gave you your orders?" he asked, turning back, but the lieutenant was gone.
Reanyn stepped onto the little balcony. The balcony stood at least four stories above the street, and the walls were sheer, yet there was no sign of the lieutenant. He glanced upwards. The roof of the building was at least twenty feet straight up. Where... ?
The knocking sounded yet again, this time accompanied by a voice. "High Captain? Are you there?" Muffled as it was by the door, he could still tell it was Lieutenant Trielle. She sounded tired and angry.
He stepped to the door, opening it.
She looked frustrated and tired. "Sorry to disturb you, sir," she said, not sounding apologetic in the least, "but something kind of important has come up. I've just been reassigned and transferred off station."
"What?"
She gave him a bitter nod. "The orders just came down. It seems that I'm suddenly desperately needed to do paperwork on some moonlet in a sphere I've never heard of."
Reanyn was thunderstruck. "I don't believe it."
"Believe it, sir. Apparently my willingness to help you in your investigation brings fateful consequences. No good deed goes unpunished."
He shook his head. "They're shipping you off station just because you're helping me," he said.
She nodded. "I don't know what this about—what any of this is about—but there's more to this investigation than... Whatever it is, they don't want you to find it, that's all I can figure. They want a nice clean answer. Someone to make the whole thing just go away. You say `a scro infiltrator killed the colonel' and they pat you on the head and send you off with a promotion and nobody has to know the truth. And never mind that my entire career gets sacrificed in the meantime." She started out angry, but somewhere towards the end she sounded like she was on the edge of tears.
"Trielle," he said, "I'm sorry... I never realized this would fall on you."
She shook her head. "Not your fault," she said, though her voice was still bitter.
"When do you leave?"
"Within the hour. Which is why I came here." She lifted a piece of paper. "I didn't have time to do everything you wanted me to before the orders came down, but I did manage to assemble a list of everyone on station who has authority and knowledge of how to program the Astrolabe." She shoved it into his hands. "And as for the document you found on the insectare, the one signed by the colonel, I had a handwriting expert take a look at the signature and compare it to other signatures the colonel's made. He says he's ninety percent certain that it wasn't forged. I thought you'd find that interesting."
Reanyn nodded slowly.
Trielle took a long breath, then let it out slowly. "That's it. I don't know who the bastard is that's behind all this, but I hope you find him. I only wish there was more I could give you."
He took the list from her. "Thank you," he said, and meant it. "I think I'm very close to figuring all this out."
"Find him," she said. "Whoever he is, find him."
He stood there a moment after she had gone, just staring at the open doorway. At last he lifted the piece of paper she had given him. He scanned it quickly for the name he thought most likely to be there. Then, surprised, he looked it over again.
Admiral Nyntoch was not on the list.
