Pioneers: Creation

The Cindelliac Ball

The Cindelliac Ball


         Despite the potential for everything going wrong by the end of the day, when Berin woke up he felt tremendous relief.  For the first in over a week he wouldn’t have back-to-back meetings with every greater noble in the galaxy wanting to kiss up to the emperor.  Of course he’d have to handle them all at once, but the head of the Royal Family had long ago discovered he could use the crowd against itself when stuck in conversations he didn’t want to be in.


         By the time the emperor managed to wash and dress his wife was already waiting for him, a new set of beautiful silver robes trimmed in deep lavender and cobalt hiding most of her figure and all of her skin aside from her fingers and face.  For the life of him Berin couldn’t figure out how Faye wasn’t sweating buckets under all the clothing, him doing just that under similar robes.


         “I’ve already sent a messenger to Alanya.  I didn’t bother with Benjen and Relina, however.  Knowing those two they’re already waiting for us at the entrance hall,” Faye said.  Berin grimaced, last night’s nervousness coming back to him in a rush.  “What’s wrong?”


         “Everything,” he said.  “Criminals walking freely in the keep, Benjen and Relina and their excitable naivete, Alanya and that new bodyguard of hers’, this whole incident with the Titan and now all the nobles hounding us.  This isn’t a happy event as much as Benjen or Relina would like to believe.”  The empress walked to him and entwined their fingers together.


         “This is the way it always is,” she said, her voice smooth and calming.  “There is always something and there always will be something.  We might move forward but so will everyone else.”


         “It’s been so long since something this big came about, though.  And with all the tension, and the children...”  Faye smiled up at him and, were her hair not done up in an immaculate yet fragile style he knew she’d be hugging him right then.


         “Not since the Terran War, no.  This is much simpler than that genocidal conflict.  Do not worry so much.  If we handled that we can handle this.”  Berin forced a smile and nodded, but the nervousness was still present.  In response his wife leaned up and kissed his cheek.  Then, letting go of one of his hands, she pulled him toward a long day.


-------------------------


         “Crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap,” Alanya said as she rushed around her room, gathering everything together for the Cindelliac Ball.  She’d forgotten to set the alarm and Mother’s messenger bot was late coming in since her bodyguards had done a thorough check of it before letting it inside her room.  “You are not helping!” she said to a grinning Desmond who stood near the door, his suit and tie for once devoid of any informalities.


         Ignoring the fact that she was dressed only in a minor shift which was probably revealing more than she’d like to her stoic bodyguard what with her running around, she continued gathering makeup, clothing and other supplies to take into the bathroom with her.  Five minutes later had her hair up in a partially dried bun while she tried hopping into her shoes and smearing mascara across her eyes at the same time.  Though he was in a different room the young princess got the feeling Desmond was still grinning at her.


         Everything in place and hair still damp, she walked out of the bathroom to scowl at her bearded bodyguard.


         “I hope you enjoyed the free show.  At least I can make myself look pretty,” she said.


         “At least I don’t have to make myself look pretty,” he replied, rubbing a hand across his bald head.  That made her scowl even more and Alanya stormed out of the room to find her family, Desmond and the two spare bodyguards her father had stuck on her following close behind.


         “You better not have taken any pictures,” she said jokingly to Desmond.


         “Don’t need to.  Great memory.”  Alanya spun around with a disbelieving smile and slugged him in the belly.


         “That’s not funny!  You weren’t really checking me out.”


         “Mole, left breast, kinda near the inside.  Adds character, I say.”  Wide-eyed, she slugged him again to the sniggers of the other two guards, though her smile was still in place.


         “I can’t believe you actually looked!  You asshole!”  Desmond chuckled.


         “I’m a man,” he said.  Shaking her head at her supposedly robotic bodyguard and the two laughing men following him, Alanya turned to continue her speedwalk toward the entrance hall where her family would meet.


         When she reached the hall her family and their enlarged entourage of bodyguards were already waiting amongst the hundreds of other nobles standing patiently and scattered.  The hall itself was a grand sight with three large corridors leading into a room of high arches and masterly carved and embroidered woods positioned like an enormous mural depicting famous political scenes from Midolloni’s long history against the stark white background shining through the many cuts and above the glossy white marble floor reflecting those above it like still water.  Looking back at her bodyguard she saw Desmond had put his game face on and the two newcomers had followed suit.  She found she was doing similar when she looked back toward her family.


         Surprisingly the other nobles in the room weren’t bothering the top of the Royal Family overly much, instead fussing with their clothes as processions continued to be organized.  Lesser nobles, politicians and guests who were the majority were already inside the ballroom or were hurrying their entry.  Councilmen and higher families, on the other hand, organized themselves in front of the room in a long and winding line according to alphabet, her family not included.  The center of the Royal Family and their bodyguards would be last in so that all would see their grand entrance.


         “You’re late, Alanya,” Benjen said, frowning.  Relina looked at her head to toe, a pinched expression set into her face.  She walked up and started adjusting her younger sister’s clothes.


         “Your robe’s wrinkled, you don’t have your inner robes displayed correctly at all and your hair is still wet.  Can’t you even dress yourself correctly?”


         “That’s enough,” Father said.  “I want no argument today, understood?”  Relina stepped away only to be replaced by her mother.


         “Please behave yourself tonight, Alanya,” the empress whispered and the young princess grimaced.


         “I’ll be fine.  Why don’t you say that to Mr. And Mrs. High-and-mighty over there.  They’re the ones being rude.”  Mother’s lips tightened at that and she quickly finished adjusting Alanya’s robes to walk over to her two older siblings.  Both frowned at whatever Mother said and glared at Alanya, but at least they weren’t complaining.


         “The trick is to act perfectly,” a quiet rasp said so low the princess almost didn’t catch it.  She turned to see Desmond with a grin so slight she wouldn’t have known it was there if she hadn’t known him.  “Piss ‘em off to no end.”  Alanya’s responding grin wasn’t nearly so slight.


         “You’re evil.”


         “I see you two are getting along much better,” Father said and Alanya realized he’d never taken his notice off her.  “I’m glad.  Do I still need to find a replacement?”  Alanya looked up at the towering Desmond then smiled at her father.


         “Nope.”


         “Good.”


         Creaking wood filled the entrance hall and all conversation stopped.  The two enormous intricately designed wooden doors of the ballroom opened inward.  Families gathered themselves into whatever formal position they found best, moving to look their haughtiest.  It had begun.


         “Councilwoman Nion Aaredol and her husband Fedwen of Kracer,” a voice announced and a middle-aged couple flanked by two guards stepped into the ballroom to the polite clapping of thousands.


         “Remember, hold yourself straight.  No slouching.  And don’t fiddle with your robes,” Faye said to the group, but Alanya knew it was meant for her.  It was a conscious effort to pull her fingers free from their grasping.


         The announcements continued as such, a family being called upon by name and planet then walking inside the enormous room to the cheering of a slowly growing few thousand.  All the while Alanya waited, patient.  Excited.


------------------------


         The crowd watched each family move in, taking their sweet time to cross the room and finally disappear amongst the rest of the people to look on and clap with everyone else.  This was the part of the ball Aiston hated most.  To the universe those walking down that line were the heads of the galaxy, leaders amongst leaders.  Aiston, like the others in the crowd, however, was just another face struggling to even be there.


         Still, he clapped along politely.  Nevermind these were all pawns in the playing, it was polite to show undeserved respect.  He could not see them yet, but he knew the Royal Family was at the back of the line.  Damn Berin and his blood.  The man was a fool not fit to rule a backwater space station.


         Beside Aiston Yenshin stood and with him two other handpicked bodyguards of the highest quality the prince could find.  If something were to happen it would happen during the ball and Malcom would be ready.


         ‘Now where is that damnable pirate and her associate?’ the prince thought, scanning the room.  Too many faces to have a hope in finding them if they were even among the crowd.  Everything was hinging on that woman.  It was that thought which both irritated and frightened Aiston endlessly.


         The procession continued and Malcom clapped along, gritting his teeth.


-------------------------


         Truth be told, Davnick didn’t know what to expect, sitting in a passage off the side of the ballroom with a directional mic and a trio of cameras he’d drilled into the wall.  The whole event was rather boring to watch.  People talked about common news events while welcoming a long line of nobility.  Exciting.


         He could already spot Malcom and his group of guards standing front row to watch the nobility come in.  It was surprising to the mercenary.  He’d have figured the procession would be too much for the arrogant noble to watch, but there he was; clapping his hands together like any other fop.


         Burlai, on the other hand, was at the far end of the room where a barkeep lent a constant supply of some alcohol, probably a weak drink so the commander didn’t find himself buzzed before the party was even started.  To his credit, he drank slowly and watched the procession carefully like everyone else, though he did not clap along.  Davnick had little doubt his employer didn’t like being here.  It was a tough crowd to get along with and judging by Burlai even being invited the man was likely to be a center of attention.  None of that was even touching on the fact that if Ruki or Tamaki were going to make any moves it’d likely be today in that room.


         As for the famous pair at the center of the whole mess, Davnick had no clue.  Ruki had disappeared before the mercenary had woken and could be anywhere.  Her behavior frightened him, in all honesty.  More so than usual even.  He had no idea what to expect out of her.  If she wanted a confrontation with Tamaki she could’ve had it easily by now, but the wait and her swinging moods...she could be planning anything.  Tamaki wasn’t much for showing himself either.  If he really was an MPG his disguise must’ve been damn good.  Cameras showed nobody who looked like the man, MPG, foreign guard or noble.  The former SEALS was the real pinnacle of it all.  Whatever happened during Cindelliac hinged on the cards Tamaki played.


         ‘At least I’m not gonna be down there when everything turns to shit,’ Davnick reasoned.


-------------------------


         Two days of no sleep.  You could be trained nine ways through hell and gotten your body beefed up enough to take five in the chest and still be strong enough to rip a guy’s arms off, but two days of no sleep was still a pain in the ass.


         Still, Kenshi tried to push it off as nothing.  Not a good idea to show the emperor or his youngest daughter his exhaustion, much less Ruki, wherever she was.


         The pirate hadn’t shown up last night.  Not a trace of her, surprisingly.  He’d figured she’d at least come to taunt him a bit, even if she refused a fight yet.  Or maybe try her damn flirting, reach into his pocket and pick out her disk, much like with her bracelet aboard the Quicksilver.  That she hadn’t shown was all the more frightening.  Bitch was up to something.


         Things were running smoothly as far as the Cindelliac Ball went.  The procession was slow, but consistent.  No hiccups, even in the ongoing clapping which Kenshi was sure would drive him as crazy as the criminal he’d been chasing.  The Royal Family looked as bored as he felt, even the prince and first princess whose enthusiasm had seemingly been endless.


         Slowly yet surely the entrance hall continued to empty out and finally, after two hours, the last few families were standing in line, waiting with whatever patience they had left just to get in.  It was then the emperor motioned for his family to ready themselves.


         “It’s time,” he said and Benjen and Relina perked up while Faye Midolloni moved to Alanya to once again adjust her clothes.


         “Behave yourself,” the empress said and Kenshi couldn’t resist rolling his eyes along with the girl.


         “I will,” Alanya said for what must’ve been the 20th time that morning.


         Most of the guards the family had with them wouldn’t make it into the ball, there being so many extras Berin and Faye had picked out after Ruki practically announced herself to the Marble Keep.  Alanya had put her foot down on Kenshi being her guard despite the empress’ and her siblings’ protests for one of the other pair who’d been on duty since the night before.  That they hadn’t wanted him around wasn’t especially surprising - he was, after all, the only member of the group in a suit and tie instead of a fancy bundle of robes.  It was the girl’s insistence and stubbornness to her family which had him cocking his head.  After, Alanya had smiled victoriously up at him and he’d chuckled quietly.  The girl could make a firm leader one day.


         Berin and Faye headed the pack when they finally moved into position in line, Relina and Alanya flanking Benjen behind them.  The emperor and empress’ guards put a good two meters between them and their employers at the front of the pack while Kenshi and Benjen and Relina’s main guards each covered their respective employers at the back of the group.


         After nearly two and a half hours of waiting the last family entered the hall leaving the Royal Family heads waiting expectantly by the doors.  A noticeable pause occurred in the announcements and the clapping slowly died down.


         Eventually the lights dimmed and a high voice which wouldn’t be missed from a game show said loud and clear, “Emperor Berin Midolloni, his wife Empress Faye, their children First Prince Benjen, First Princess Relina and Second Princess Alanya of Midolloni.”  The cheering reached it’s loudest and, smiling, the emperor took the first step forward.


         For the first time Kenshi got a good look at the enormous room he’d be spending most of the day in.  Expensive was the first thing which came to mind.  The room kept the marble motif going with a high ceiling and purely decorative columns lining either side of the room.  At the opposite end a large stage stood, complete with a full-sized orchestra set up and waiting.  To his left the entire wall was made up of glass, revealing a balcony and forested courtyard beyond.  To his right sat an enormous dining area made up of four levels to fit all the people in the room.  Around the room were scattered bars while in front of the stage a dancing floor had been cleared.  The area was crowded with well-dressed people of most major races, all clapping and cheering for the popular family.


         Little by little the Royal Family made it’s way into the ballroom and within seconds they were surrounded by the cheering mob who let the entrance line fade away as the family and their bodyguards walked past.  With all the faces and noise Kenshi nearly didn’t see the 11th prince at the front of the line, cheering just as loud as anyone else and carrying a pinched expression of distaste.  It was only a split second and then the noble was gone, but Kenshi still had to fight the urge to flatten the man.


         ‘All this because of him.  That man is going to fry.’


         After a minute of the loud attention the group finally found it’s way to the stage where a single microphone stood in front of an orchestra finishing preparations for a day of music.  Smiling an enormous cheese-eating smile, waving his arms at anyone and everyone and flanked by his two guards, the emperor stepped up to the microphone.  It took another minute for the crowd to quiet down.


         “It has been a long year since last we held this event,” Berin said and the crowd hung onto every word as if their lives depended on it.  “I am glad to see so many new faces here among us, as well as many returning ones.  On many sides we face adversity, but together we forge our alliances, not in blood but in friendship.  People of Midolloni, you are what holds this great galaxy together and with this event every year I hope that we might refashion and strengthen our bonds to each other and create a great and long era of peace for ourselves and for all who would follow us.  Please, everyone, enjoy our Cindelliac Ball!”


         The cheers started anew, louder than ever, and Kenshi was glad he wasn’t down among the crowd.  He hated loud cheering.  Damn crowds could blow out an eardrum.


         Eventually the chorus died down and then it was the orchestra making the noise, though this sound was much more pleasant.  Berin stepped away from the microphone to disappear into mass of people, his wife and their guards following closely.  Relina and Benjen quickly followed suit and went their separate ways with their respective guards and then it was just Kenshi and Alanya on the great marble and wood stage, watching the people and having nothing better to do.


         “Guess we can’t stare at them all day,” the princess said, trying to give him something of a comforting smile.  He nodded and the pair walked into the mass.


-------------------------


         The party was as annoying as expected.  Rich tarts already on their way toward a very drunk night looking up or usually down on everything else that walked.  Terrace was simply glad they hadn’t recognized him in his finely pressed MMC uniform yet.


         It was his second drink so far, some light ale the bartender refused to call watered-down in front of nobility.  A couple ales wasn’t much, but it’d relax him enough for the interrogation to come.  In the meantime he was perfectly comfortable allowing everyone to give their attention to the far stage where the royal family was being put on show like a prize pig.


         ‘We probably have more bodyguards here than nobles,’ he thought as he observed the 7:5 ratio the head family had put up.  The main draw, at least to him, was what he guessed was a Terran amongst them, some big guy who dwarfed the rest of the people on the stage and had forgone the clean cut robes and hairstyle for a good black suit and coarse beard.  ‘He looks as upset at being here as I feel.’


         Soon enough the royal family, the Terran with them, disappeared off the stage and Terrace started seeing the stares come his way.  The curiosity had begun.  It wouldn’t take long for them to put two and two together then he’d be the center of a crowd.


         The commander upended his cup and downed the rest of his ale in two gulps.  Putting it down, the bartender refilled the glass right away, but Terrace didn’t touch it.  Bad idea to get overly buzzed in front of these people.  He checked his watch.


         ‘Noon.  Another 12 hours before this thing’s over,’ he thought, trying not to cringe.  ‘How the hell do all these people go at it all day?’


         The keep’s personal orchestra was going at it full swing already.  A few moved out to the dance floor, but most stayed in whatever conversation they were stuck in.  It was somewhat funny watching them.  If it weren’t for the fancy clothes and marble walls Terrace could be looking at any crowded market in the galaxy.


         ‘And very likely Ruki and Tamaki are in there somewhere.’


         Terrace clenched his jaw and grabbed his drink.


-------------------------


         It was the same old fun she’d enjoyed year after year for as long as she could remember.  Watch the many different races as they walked, talked, sat, stood, danced, ate or drank with each other - a clash of so many wildly different cultures you couldn’t see in all but a few other rare places in the universe.  To most it was boring.  To Alanya it was a strange kind of fascination - a study of people and how they did what they did.  Desmond, on the other hand, looked about ready to fall asleep in his chair.


         “I don’t know how you find this fun,” the large man rasped quietly enough so only she could hear.


         “I don’t know how you can find this boring,” Alanya replied.  Her guard grimaced and glanced around.


         “An entire day of this?  How do you all last?”


         “Honestly?”  Desmond looked at her with an eyebrow raised.  “The young ones have too much energy and the rest find the wine.”


         “That explains it.  Nothing like hydrating with alcohol while working on the foundations of how our galaxy is run,” he said.  She giggled.


         “I should’ve known you’d be this cynical.”


         “Probably.”


         Alanya stood up and said, “Come on, let’s dance.”  Desmond’s only response was giving her a very strange look.  “Come on!”


         “I’m not much for dancing.”


         “Too bad.  I feel like dancing with you.”  That strange look was turned to the dance floor then back toward the princess.  Alanya scowled, grabbed his arm and started pulling, but the large Terran hardly even budged.  “Come on!”  Desmond took another look around and, probably noticing the attention they were receiving, finally stood up.


         “Fine,” he said.  “But only to piss people off.”  Alanya rolled her eyes and dragged him to the dance floor.


         Placing one hand on his shoulder, she held Desmond’s other hand up while he pressed his palm into the middle of her back.  Alanya rolled her eyes again and pushed the hand to the small of her back.


         Soon enough the orchestra started a new song, something fast and cheerful, and the young princess began leading the pair to the music.  It was ugly.


         ‘The bastard was right.  He isn’t much for dancing,’ Alanya thought.  Desmond was constantly off-balance, allowing her to push him this way and that and overcompensating to her movements.  ‘At least he isn’t crushing my toes.’


         The song ended and Desmond tried to let go, but Alanya refused, dragging him even closer.  Her bodyguard winced though relented, to the princess’ amusement.


         “You’re not getting off that easy,” she said, wrapping her arm more firmly around his neck.


         “Girly, I’d have thought you’d learned your lesson by now.”


         “What lesson is that?”


         “If you dance with me you look like child trying to dance with her father.”  She had to laugh at the image and the honesty of it.


         Desmond improved as the music went along, probably realizing she wasn’t going to let him off the hook anytime soon, though he still was nowhere near good or even average.  Even so, by the time the next song began - a slower piece finally - he’d learned not to overcompensate to her touches so much and made the dance considerably more smooth.  Alanya responded by pulling herself even closer, much to Desmond’s discomfort.


         “You keep this up we’re going to make your father angry,” the Terran said.


         “Isn’t that why you’re doing this?” she replied with a smile.  “Piss people off?”  Desmond grimaced yet again.


         “I’d forgotten.”


         When the song ended Alanya finally let her guard go, grinning as she watched him stumble quickly across the dance floor to take a seat near the edge.


         She’d barely begun moving toward him when a carefully cultured voice asked, “May I have this dance?”  Alanya turned to find a handsome human of some sort likely not much older than herself giving her an award-winning smile and an outstretched hand.  The young princess smiled back and grabbed the hand.


-------------------------


         ‘Most boring stakeout ever,’ Davnick thought as he watched the ball move along.  People chatted aimlessly, some danced, some walked around doing nothing in particular and Burlai continued trying to hide in his little corner while more and more nobles started noticing him.


         Would probably be better if he wasn’t constantly actively searching for a certain pair of most wanteds instead of...say...playing one form of solitaire or another, but alas.  That’s not how the circumstances were treating him.


         Soon enough lunch was served and for a good hour it became impossibly more boring as nearly everyone sat at prearranged tables, ate prearranged food and tried to time their bites to that of a talkative emperor.


         ‘I could watch grass grow and get more out of it.’


         When lunch was finished nobody seemed to be in any hurry to stand up.  They all continued sitting around their prearranged tables, drinking and talking and generally annoying the hell out of Davnick.  Eventually, starting with the emperor of course, people began to move about and mingle once again.  Better than sitting and eating, but ultimately boring as hell.


         ‘What makes it worse is that I don’t even know what I should be looking for,’ Davnick thought, rubbing his eyes.  ‘They’re obviously going to be disguised which means I should be on the lookout for whatever either’s got up their sleeve instead.  But how the hell should I know?’  He leaned back against the wall, wishing he’d brought something to cushion the oh-so-fancy marble floor, and looked hopelessly at the screens.  What was Tamaki waiting for?


-------------------------


         ‘What are they waiting for?’ Terrace thought, finding his way back to the bar with a semi full stomach.  He sat down and checked his watch.  3:47.  ‘Damn.  This thing’s still got at least another eight hours.’


         He’d just started nursing his drink when what he feared most happened; they attacked.


         “Excuse me but you wouldn’t happen to be Commander Burlai, would you?”  Terrace turned on his stool to see three men.  The first was a pale human of some sort with hair a very pale shade of lavender, a feminine face, two eyes which naturally appeared shut and an incredibly wide grin.  The second was a Ruensari, a direct descendent of the first avariel, the Quensari.  Burlai couldn’t for the life of him make one member of the species out from another, but the Ruensari were small and frail with a thick covering of ruffled blue feathers, arms that could be easily taken for wings and even a pointed beak.  The third was Midollonian by a crest he kept on his clothes, though unusually stout and with receding brown hair.


         “I am,” Terrace said.


         “Wonderful,” lavender-head said.  “I am Hutai Verdichi of Alasia.”


         “I am Jes Cordun from Fardell,” the Ruensari said.


         “Wren Karhold, fifth prince of Midolloni,” the last said.  All three bowed.  Burlai nodded back.


         “To what do I owe this honor?” Terrace asked.


         Verdichi said, “We had heard a member of the MMC would be here today.  You have answers to questions about a very alarming incident, they say.”  The man never let down that wide grin, not even the slightest.


         “I hear you were a hero in Orlius.  Is that true?” Cordun asked.  Terrace tried to keep from gritting his teeth.


         “I did my part,” was all he said.


         “It must take quite a soldier to survive such an ordeal,” Verdichi said.


         “Only a lucky one,” said Terrace.


         “Is it true your own teammate was responsible for the disaster?” Karhold asked.  Terrace felt his heart lurch, his blood turn cold and a headache grow.  What if Tamaki was listening to this?


         “Yes, but I must ask for no more talk about Orlius,” Terrace said.  “It is not something I like to remember.”


         “Understandable, yes,” Verdichi replied silkily, grin still in place.  “So tell us of the Titan.”  A pair of nobles sitting a few stools away leaned closer at mention of the enormous ship.


         “What is it you would like to know?”


         “For starters, is the incident resolved yet?” Karhold asked.


         “It is not,” Terrace said simply.


         “But you are making headway, yes?” Cordun said.


         “Correct.  I cannot release many details, however, due to potential leaks in security.”


         “Of course, of course,” Verdichi said.  “We simply wish to have our frail nerves calmed from the looming threat which could be a titan.”  He said it loudly, though not quite to the point where it might be obviously so.  A few more nobles stepped up to join the conversation.


         “Who is truly responsible for this ghastly incident?” one man asked.


         “Did you find them yet?  Have you recovered the information?” asked another.


         “What are you doing to keep this from happening again?” said a third man.


         “The information was stolen by Ruki and Kenshi Tamaki, a pair of mercenaries.  I have found them, though there are complications in simply making arrests.  I cannot say what precautions have been made to keep such an incident from happening again as I am uninvolved with any such projects.”


         “What sort of complications?!  That is ridiculous!” another man said, stepping up to the gathered crowd.


         “We would like to know who hired them in the first place,” Terrace lied.


         “Isn’t that what an interrogation is for?” Karhold smugly asked.


         “An interrogation would be useless.  We know Ruki and Tamaki did it and they know they have no reason to tell us anything.  They’d be more likely to throw us off track, in fact.  There is no deal we could make which would truly benefit them.  Their history in crime is much too long and they have proven much too dangerous for leniency.”


         “Is that so,” Verdichi’s voice seeming to echo around the growing crowd.  “Tell me, what makes them so dangerous, especially compared to someone who might have use with - what was it?  Blueprints of the Titan?”


         A chorus of outcry went out and the crowd grew even larger.  Some asked for confirmation, others demanded something be done immediately, a few asked for information surrounding the incident, a couple even asked what a titan was.  Terrace, feeling his head pounding with each new voice, closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose.


         ‘Most of them didn’t even know that much?  Annoying.  And Verdichi is pulling strings for the hell of it.’  He looked up at the grinning noble and had to hide his scowl.  “As I said, we know where the stolen information is, we just refuse to move on it before we know who wanted it in the first place.”


         The questions continued and Terrace found himself turning to order a strong ale.


-------------------------


         “There they go, Berin said to his wife as they looked onto the ever-growing crowd standing around a bar in a far corner.  He couldn’t even make out where Burlai was any longer.


         “He’ll be fine,” Faye tried to reassure him.  Tried.  Berin forced himself to look at his wife and found her smiling up at him.  That relaxed him somewhat.


         “Where are the kids?” he asked, taking his eyes away from his wife to look around the crowded room.


         “Knowing Benjen and Relina, probably helping harass our commander.”  Berin frowned.


         “Of course.”


         “And knowing Alanya, probably dancing.”  Looking over to the dance floor the emperor quickly saw it was true.  There she was with some young noble he’d never seen before, smiling and dancing like she was born into it.  A few feet away her Terran bodyguard sat lazily watching the pair.  “She has grown fond of him,” Faye said.  Berin raised an eyebrow and looked over the noble.  He was sure he’d never seen the boy before...


         “I don’t believe I’ve met him.  What’s his name?”


         Faye sighed in exasperation and said, “Not him.  Desmond, her bodyguard.”  Berin did a double take at his wife.


         “Oh?”


         “She refuses to have him replaced.”


         “I heard as much earlier.  Strange, but that is our daughter,” he said.


         “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so forceful about a matter.  Not without being angry first, anyway.”


         “Quite the change of heart.  Perhaps she is growing up a bit.”


         “Perhaps,” she said.  “Do you think Desmond is teaching her to be more of a lady?”  Berin nearly didn’t catch himself from snorting.


         “More like she thought he would annoy the nobility present,” he said.


         “Still, it is good to see her finally take a firm stance, unexpected as it may be.”


         “If only we could find a way to drive out her recklessness.”


         The leaders of the galaxy sighed wistfully.


-------------------------


         As time went on it was easy to notice the questions going in circles.  “What are you doing about the incident?  What has been resolved?  Who is behind this incident?  Ruki and Tamaki?  Who are they?  You let them steal something?  What exactly did they steal?  What a joke!  How could you let them steal that?  What are you doing about the incident?”  Of course, there were the stray questions here and there as well as the occasional outcries from someone who had just joined the interrogation, but that was the general gist of things.


         Of course, then he appeared.


         ‘Malcom,’ Terrace thought, trying not to stare at the 11th prince who had begun this whole mess.  The famed noble stood at the back of the crowd, grinning at some of the answers he found particularly amusing.  Whenever he took a glance and saw that grin Terrace was tempted to scream out the truth for everyone to hear.


         “That’s him!” he could imagine saying.  “He was behind it all!  He’s why I’m here, dealing with you fops trying to tell me how to do my job, blaming me for something I wasn’t even involved in.  He wants the Titan’s data.  Probably gonna try to blow you all to hell and I wouldn’t really blame him.  That’s him, Aiston Malcom.”


         ‘If only it were that easy.  But that data needs to be recovered.’


         “Who is to say this...Ruki and Tamaki do not want the Titan’s blueprints for themselves?” a carefully cultured voice called above the rest.  Everybody turned and looked and it took a moment for Terrace to realize it was Malcom who’d asked the question.


         ‘Fucking rat bastard...’  “Ruki has been working as a mercenary only for over three years now,” the commander replied.  “There’s nothing which indicates they would want it for themselves.”


         “I believe Ruki commanded something of an army just prior to those three years, no?  Is it not possible she could be trying to rebuild?”


         “Again, there’s nothing to indicate...”


         “And what of this...Tamaki you speak of?”  The crowd was quiet at Malcom’s questioning.  This was new to them and damnably legitimate.


         ‘But I’ll have the last laugh on this sonofabitch no matter what he says here,’ he thought.  “Kenshi Tamaki is not the type of person to want a following.  All indications show he dislikes working with large groups.”


         “Interesting.  When I read of him he had very little information and no indication of preferences such as what you have pointed out.”


         Terrace closed his eyes.  He should’ve known it would come to this.  He knew what was about to happen and damn it, he was not in the least ready.


         “I know this because before Tamaki became a criminal he served in the MMC alongside me.”  And the outcries went up again.


         “You should’ve known what he was before all this happened!”


         “You could be working with him!  This is ridiculous!”


         “Why didn’t you share this with us earlier?”


         The voices began to blend together and Terrace’s vision blurred as his headache grew.  Through it all, though, he stared at Malcom, grinning victoriously at the commander.  There was little Terrace could do to calm people from this and, involving Tamaki, there was little he wanted to say.


         ‘My fault.  Betrayal.  My fault.  Foolish, petty betrayal.  My fault.  My fault...’


         Then a new voice was heard - beautiful, melodious even.  “I don’t know what all of you expected.  Why not find a leader who is more familiar with the enemy than anyone else?  How should he have guessed at betrayal?  Have none of you ever been betrayed?”  She must have been an angel the way her voice carried, the way she saved him and, when people moved to let him see her, the way she looked as well.


         Mocha skin, long legs, black hair flowing beautifully down here back, a stunning black dress revealing more than just hints of the shapely body underneath.  Who the hell was this woman?


         She walked right up to him, smiling with lips the devil would be proud of, and said, “Dance with me.”  She grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the crowd, not even waiting for an answer.  Once they reached the dance floor she drew his arms around her waist before throwing hers’ around his neck and began moving slowly to the music.  He was mildly surprised to find she was only a bare couple inches shorter than his own 5'8".


         “Who are you?” he asked.


         “Narnia Celeste,” she said, that beautiful smile still adorning her face.  He almost felt like asking her again.


         “Why did you ask me to dance?”  Her smile widened as she narrowed her brown eyes on his.


         “I am curious to know what sort of man you are.  I’ve heard about you.”  Terrace blinked, his face red.  When was the last time he’d even been near a woman this beautiful?  He couldn’t recall.


         “I...well...what do you want to know?” he asked.  She merely cocked her head and continued smiling and dancing from one song to the next.  Soon he was forgetting about the crowd and Malcom and all the bullshit of the universe to relax under this woman’s arms.


         After an eternity she leaned up and breathed to him, “You remind me of someone I know.”  At his questioning glance she laughed lightly and continued.  “Another man I’ve seen here in the keep.  It’s surprising how alike you two are.  So quiet and serious, even bashful.  You even stand alike.”


         “Sounds like we’d get along.”


         “Sounds like it.”  Her smile turned mischievous.  “You have your differences, though.”  She unwrapped her arms and walked away.


         Terrace continued watching her until somebody calling his name stole his attention.  Verdichi stood beside him, grinning as usual and said, “I would be honored if you’d join my table for dinner, Commander.  Do you accept?”  Dazed, Terrace merely nodded.


-------------------------


         It was becoming difficult to keep from looking tired, watching Alanya go from one dance to another in a seemingly endless succession.  The chairs weren’t helping matters.  Instead of supplying cheap aluminum folders or even the expected overly decorative wooden masterpieces they’d decided to supply the room with damnably comfortable padded chairs.


         ‘About the only time I’m ever gonna complain about being too comfortable,” Kenshi thought.  ‘Between the music, boredom, padding and lack of sleep, I could take a long nap just about now.  At least I haven’t been asked for any more dances.’


         Alanya politely shifted partners again, giving him a quick smile as she did so, and Kenshi sighed.  The music changed and he could’ve sworn they were playing some nursery’s goodnight tune.  He cringed and had to fight off the sudden heaviness of his eyelids.


         Looking around, Kenshi tried to find something to help keep him alert.  For all the good that did him.  Dancing, talking and drinking.  The only curious thing was a thick crowd gathered next to one of the bars, but considering how many people were packed into the room that wasn’t anything special.


         A wandering waiter passed by and Kenshi asked for a water, hoping it might stave his exhaustion for awhile.  The cold of the drink did it, even just a little, and Kenshi shook his head a bit to clear it.  Pulling up his sleeve he checked his watch to find it was barely past 6:00.  When he looked up he felt cold, but it had nothing to do with water this time.


         He saw Narnia first, beautiful as ever in a stunning black dress, but it was who she was dragging to the dance floor which really drew his attention.  He felt his blood turn cold long before recognition came.  It was too random, too much of a coincidence.  But the truth was dancing right before his eyes, literally.  There was Terrace Burlai, friend, teammate and ruiner of life as he knew it, slow dancing with Narnia Celeste.


         Kenshi felt his hand clench, heard the fingers cracking.  He felt his temper running wild and fought to keep control.  He knew even the slightest provocation would set him off right then and if that happened...


         “Are you alright?” Alanya asked, cutting through his thoughts.  The girl had walked right up next to him without his notice.  “Desmond?”  She looked concerned.


         “Fine,” Kenshi rasped.  “Think I need some fresh air.”


         “Come on then.”  The young princess motioned him to stand up and led him toward the balcony.


         ‘There’s a reason why he’s here,’ Kenshi thought as they walked.  ‘Burlai wouldn’t be invited unless something was up.  But why him?’  The answer wasn’t too difficult.  ‘There’s no way a man of his rank would’ve been invited and it’s been too long since Orlius for him to be given this sort of credit.  He’s been assigned crowd control for something.  And I don’t doubt that something is the Titan incident.’  Kenshi narrowed his eyes.  ‘That would mean...we’re on the same side...’


         “Are you sure you’re alright?” Alanya asked and Kenshi realized they were standing outside.  “You look really pale and really angry.”  The Terran blinked and forcibly relaxed his face, going so far as to add a small grin.


         “Too many nobles for my taste is all.”  She looked like she didn’t believe him, but Kenshi said nothing more.  Instead he took a deep breath of cool air.  It was dark out by now and the days of rain had put a noticeable dew on the courtyard beyond which practically glowed in the full moon light.  Calming though it was, Kenshi’s thoughts were a storm.


         ‘It doesn’t change anything,’ he told himself.  ‘But it can.  I could get everything done tonight.  Finalize everything.’


         ‘But you’d have to wing it to do that.  Plans go awry when you do that.’


         ‘I’ve winged everything in my life.  There’s never a sure plan.’


         ‘And look where it’s gotten you.’


         ‘What if there’s not another opportunity?  This may be the last time.’


         ‘Then you can create your own opportunity.’


         ‘By winging it.’


         His head was pounding and his heart racing.  This night would be full of surprises, he was sure.  And that wasn’t even touching on Narnia dancing with Burlai...


         “They made it so chilly tonight,” Alanya said, shivering.


         “Don’t like the cold?” he asked.


         “It’s alright, when you’re not wearing robes made to keep cool.”  Kenshi forced a smile and looked down at her.


         “Let’s go inside then.”  They’d barely made it three steps before Narnia appeared.  Kenshi felt his hand clench.


         “Going in so soon?” she asked.  “And here I thought I’d join you.”


         “Aren’t you freezing out here?” Alanya asked.  “I’m wearing three times as much and I’m cold.”  Narnia looked at her bared arms and shrugged.


         “Lemaade is a colder planet.”


         “Well I need to get inside before I catch something,” Alanya said and she walked around the lesser noble.  Kenshi made to follow, but Narnia’s hand on his arm stopped him.


         “I caught your attention in there,” she said.  He looked at her, but said nothing.  A lopsided grin appeared on her face and she let him go.  “Cheer up.  This thing’s just starting.”  With that she walked past him, leaving Kenshi with his thoughts.


-------------------------


         With how smoothly the Cindelliac Ball was running so far Aiston nearly felt as if he could begin relaxing.  However, he knew the more time which passed the less there was until somebody made a move.  For that, he was proud his composure remained intact.


         Seated at his assigned table and surrounded by bodyguards as he waited for dinner, the 11th prince chatted amiably with “fellow” lesser nobles.  It was an effort to keep hidden his distaste.


         Across the second level of the dining area Commander Burlai continued his blind defense for the MMC in the face of some of the most powerful politicians in the galaxy, despite that woman’s annoying defense for the man.  Aiston was happy to watch him squirm under their scrutiny and wished the woman was there to squirm as well.  Meanwhile the heads of the Royal Family talked business with those few with enough influence to push their way onto the emperor’s table way up on the fourth level where only the high elite classes could see.


         ‘And here I am, ignored,’ Aiston thought.  ‘Half of these people never heard of me, the other half believe me a common criminal.  As if they are no better.  Every man has his dark secrets, even our saint of an emperor.  Even Sevantes believes me nothing more than a pawn, a tool to grant him power.  Fools.  They are my tools, a footstool to my seat of power.  In some way they are each working for me, granting me my fate even if they themselves do not know it.’  Involuntarily, Aiston’s eyes narrowed.


         ‘All except a loose end named Kenshi Tamaki.’  The man was annoyance, to be sure.  An oddity set apart from any and all systems which the prince might tie in for his advantage.  He could imagine Sevantes’ sneer at allowing such an outsider to pry into their business.  As if he could do any better.  Sevantes had his uses, but dealing with the many political worlds, illegal or otherwise, was not one of them.  In the end Aiston knew the man would become a pest, similar to Ruki.  He was a disposable leech with a bare few, if crucial, uses.


         ‘Thinking of Ruki...’ he thought, glancing around the room as if he might actually find a hint of the woman.  ‘What in the hell is that pirate doing?  That damnable woman better have found my information by now.’


         Glancing at Yenshin, Aiston did not hide his sneer.


-------------------------


         Despite being veritably starved between a small lunch and hours of dancing, Alanya would have rather skipped dinner entirely than be seated with her family and the various politicians, being forced to listen to new economic policies and deals in the works while trying her best not to look dead bored.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if Desmond could be around to make fun of all this under his breath, but bodyguards were deemed to take up too much space at the emperor’s table.  Instead the Terran, along with his fellow bodyguards, were stuck at a parallel table, albeit likely without the boring conversation.


         Most people were still finding their seats, though it felt like Alanya’d been sitting for hours, listening to Father and Mother talk to some councilman.  One by one more high profile nobles seated themselves in prearranged chairs, the same as it had been with lunch.  There was one difference, however.


         The chair beside the second princess began pulling out when somebody said, “Excuse me, but you seem to be taking my seat.”  Alanya looked over just in time to watch Narnia sit down next to her, much to the surprise and annoyance of some major trade noble who she didn’t even bother remembering the name of.  “Excuse me.  Miss.  You are sitting in my spot.”


         “Your spot’s changed.  The second princess invited me to sit beside her,” Narnia said, not so much as sparing the man a glance.  Alanya blinked at that.  The noble was speechless and even her family had stopped their conversations to look at the new arrival.


         “Is this true, Alanya?” Father asked, his face betraying no emotion.  Alanya looked at Narnia, calmly adjusting her chair and setting a napkin on her lap, then back at her father.  The second princess nodded.


         “Alanya!” Mother scoffed.


         “Sister, how rude...” Benjen started, but was interrupted by Father.


         “Enough.  I apologize, Councilman Ruben.  Alanya, you should know better.”


         “I’m sorry, Father.”


         “Relina, may you move over a bit so Councilman Ruben has a place to sit?” the emperor asked.


         “Of course, Father,” she said moving her chair just close enough to Alanya to squeeze Ruben into the table.  Right away a pair of servers came with a chair and dinner set.


         “Thank you, Emperor.  You are gracious, as always,” Ruben said, glaring down at Narnia as he moved to take his seat.


         “Now,” Father started.  “Would you introduce your guest, Alanya?”


         “This is Narnia Celeste, from Lemaade.  Narnia, this is my father Emperor Berin, my mother Empress Faye, my sister Relina and my brother Benjen,” Alanya said, waving her hand toward each of the people.  A round of greetings followed.


         “Lemaade...” Mother said.  “Forgive me my ignorance, but tell me more of your home.”  Narnia shrugged her shoulders.


         “Not much to tell.  A worker’s planet near the rim.  Farmland and the like.  I’m surprised we received and invitation at all.  I must thank you for that.”


         “Yes...of course,” Mother replied.


         “How were you introduced to Alanya?” Benjen asked and Alanya noticed for the first time he and most of the others at the table were looking very intently at Narnia.  Glancing at the object of the stares, Alanya had to admit she couldn’t blame them.  Something that stunning bringing relief to the same old political tripe had to pique curiosity.


         “I’m surprised you haven’t heard the story.  In my boredom I wandered into your MPG’s training room to find Desmond giving your daughter shooting lessons so I decided to join in.”


         “Alanya!” Mother said.  “Shooting lessons?!”  Alanya made to reply, but Narnia was quick.


         “It truly is a way to relieve stress, let me tell you.  I guess we could all complain about how lady-like it is or isn’t, but I don’t get why there’d be restrictions like that in the face of self preservation.  Besides, it’s fun.”  Narnia grinned and Alanya was surprised to hear Father burst out laughing.  The young princess gave a weak smile at that.


         From there on the conversations actually become interesting as the lowly noble from Lemaade made herself an active participant.  She was surprisingly knowledgeable about the rim worlds, frequently putting down arrogant nobles and councilmen who thought they knew better.  It was rather entertaining and, judging by Father’s expression, he thought so as well.  Benjen she was more worried about.  Her brother refused to take his eyes off Narnia.


         Dinner came and went, finally relieving Alanya of her starvation.  Not as good as the nicer restraunts in the city, but still extremely satisfying.  As usual everyone stayed seated to drag on the conversation while they digested, though now people were beginning to look sleepy.  They’d perk up quickly enough when the speeches and yearly highlights began in a couple more hours.


         “I simply do not understand how you cannot believe it is the relatively untapped resources of the rim worlds which raises their economy.  That is ridiculous,” some noble on the other end of the table was saying hours later.  The man was one of many who’d decided they disliked Narnia’s presence.


         “Perhaps if you listened to what I said instead of trying to stroke your intelligence, or lack thereof, you’d know it was the resources I’ve been speaking of.  Legal means are not the only way for these resources to gain money.  Look into trade stations and you’ll see the numbers don’t match up,” Narnia replied, smiling as always.  This was a game to her, Alanya had been quick to realize.  One which she was far better at, though that was gaining her few friends.


         ‘She doesn’t care, though.  This is political suicide, but she doesn’t care at all.  She knows better, but she only wants the fun of outsmarting these people.  If she were trying to get ahead it would be better to use her knowledge to make deals and win favors then drive through loopholes to the top.  Instead she’s just pissing everyone off,’ Alanya thought.  Then she saw her father looking amused at the lesser noble and her brother looking lustily at her.  ‘Almost everyone,’ she corrected.


         “Then why are rim worlds notoriously poor?  You make no sense,” a different noble said.


         “Rim worlds are far from poor.  Check their income, it’s there for everyone to see.  It’s the workers who are poor.  In most cases the upper class hides it’s acquired wealth.  In others, the relative lawlessness steals it away.  In either case most nobles who know about it don’t care because they’re above it or whatever.  Then they like to call it impossible, that the galaxy is above it, all that crap.”  Narnia gained a sly look.  “Like a lot of people here.”


         Alanya couldn’t help it anymore and she broke out laughing.  The aghast looks were going toward both of them, but she just couldn’t help herself.  It’d been forever since a lowly noble had upset the high elites like this.  It was little wonder Desmond enjoyed her company so much.


         “Excuse me, Emperor, but I’ve had enough of this filth,” the noble at the end of the table said, standing up to walk away.  Like clockwork most of the arguing nobles followed suit, sneering, grimacing and generally looking angry.


         “You shouldn’t laugh at them, Alanya,” Relina said and Mother nodded her agreement, frowning.


         “I am sorry,” Alanya said, trying to force down her giggles.


         “Spoilt sport.  That’s so much fun,” Narnia said.


         “You’ve offended them.  Now they will hate you and try to cut your planet off any way they can,” Mother said, looking somewhere between curious and angry.  “Why?”  Narnia grinned mischievously.


         “Why not?  Let them try to harm me.  It’s easy enough to pull influence.  Besides, it’s fun making them squirm.  You should know that better than anyone.”


         “Excuse me?” Mother asked, eyebrow raised.


         “Please don’t insult my mother,” Alanya whispered to the lesser noble.


         “Don’t get so defensive.  You’re Empress Midolloni.  You have power beyond most people’s dreams.  And when someone has power over another, they quake,” Narnia said.


         “I see,” said Mother said somewhere between confusion, surprise and distaste and Father burst out laughing.


         “This has been truly entertaining.  You are a stunning specimen, Miss Celeste,” he said.


         “I wouldn’t have it any other way.  But now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a Terran to annoy.”  With that, Narnia stood up and walked away to no doubt torture Desmond.


         “What a vulgar woman,” said Relina.  “We must keep her from future events.”


         “Oh, I don’t know,” Benjen disagreed, much to the surprise of the family.  “I think she’s fine.”  Mother scoffed while Father and Alanya grinned.


-------------------------


         To Kenshi it was one of the tastiest steaks in the universe.  To everyone else present, it was another meal.  It was a shame such things were wasted, but Kenshi savored every last bite.  Of course, savoring didn’t drain time at these dinners like they should.


         As always everybody took their sweet time getting up, though by now it was likely as much from exhaustion as it was having a full stomach and getting caught up in ‘you’ll change the universe if you screw up so much as the dialect of a word’ conversations.  The exhaustion thing the Terran could agree with.  Couple days without sleep and now a full stomach, Kenshi could probably fall asleep standing up if he wanted.


         So out of it he was that he didn’t notice people had started moving again until he was being dragged out of his chair by a tanned, slender arm.


         “Wai-wha?” he asked, realizing Narnia Celeste was pulling him down the levels and toward the dance floor.  “Hold on a second.”  But she completely ignored him.  It was when they’d reached the dance floor she finally stopped and Kenshi’s dazed mind fully comprehended what was going on.  “No,” he said, trying to pull away.  Her arms around his neck stopped him, however.  “I’m not a dancer.”


         “I don’t care,” she said, grinning up at him.


         “Why do women feel like looking like fools, dancing with me?” Kenshi asked.


         “I hate to break it to you but you’re the only one who looks bad while dancing and turning me down would make you look like even more of a fool.”


         “Arrogant.”


         “Of course.  I know exactly what I am.”  A new song began and Narnia began dancing.  “Wrap your arms around me, Desmond, and maybe you’ll actually have a little fun.”  He did so, reluctantly, feeling as if he were whipped.


         It was just like Alayna - he was terrible, she had experience and it showed for everyone in the room to see, doubly so since they were the first ones on the floor.  Aside from that, there was only one large difference between this dance and the last: this time around he was very much attracted to the woman in front of him.


         When the song ended and she refused to let go of him he said, “I have to watch the girl.”


         “She’s right there,” Narnia said, nodding to what he found to be Alanya dancing behind him with some young noble.  Resigned to his fate, he continued dancing.  That was, until Benjen came up to the pair.


         “May I have this dance?” the young prince asked, bowing and holding his hand out in practiced grace.  Kenshi pulled his arms away, but Narnia didn’t even look at the high noble.


         “No,” was all she said.


         “Excuse me?” Benjen said, wide-eyed.  Kenshi figured he had a similar look on his own face.


         “No,” Narnia said again, nodding toward Kenshi.  “I want to dance with him.”  Red-faced, Benjen stumbled away looking more surprised than offended.


         “You just turned down a dance with the first prince of Midolloni to stumble along with his younger sister’s bodyguard,” Kenshi reminded her.  Narnia raised an eyebrow.


         “So?”


         “Are you insane?”  She smiled widely at him and continued dancing and eventually he wrapped his arms around her waist again.


         Song after song, one dance melded into the next as Kenshi began to relax himself under this woman’s arms and gaze.  She stared up at him the entire time, her smile wide, beautiful and sly.  As time ran on he started to feel a need he’d long ignored and gradually forgotten rise in him and for the first time in four years he realized he just wanted to pick the woman before him up, carry her off to God-knows-where and have his way with her until she couldn’t take anymore.


         Thoughts of his surroundings slipped from his mind, Alanya became just another face, Ruki and Malcom disappeared, even Burlai was forgotten.  All he knew was Narnia Celeste was in front of him right then and there.


         He couldn’t tell how long they danced.  Minutes, hours, days.  If he’d thought about it, though, he would know there was probably only one thing which could’ve taken him out of that trance.  As it happened, that one thing came to be.


         “Ruki!  Good God, it’s Ruki!”


         Instantly Kenshi snapped to attention, letting go of Narnia and spinning around while whispers chorused the room.  A man lay on his back in shock, staring at a woman dressed in fine robes surrounded by others pointing and whispering in similar shock.  Ruki.


         Kenshi reached back and gripped his pistol, but didn’t take it out.  Something was wrong here.  She looked as surprised as the man.  And she looked too short.


         ‘It’s not her,’ he realized after a moment.  ‘She looks almost exactly alike, but it’s not her.  All those incidents in the halls...that was this woman.’


         “It’s Ruki!  The pirate!  Somebody get her!” the man on the ground was saying.


         “Excuse me?” the woman said in a voice decidedly too high and with an accent too far off to be Ruki.  “What are you talking about?  And who is Ruki?”


         “Mr. Valeneine, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Zanderjact,” Faye Midolloni said, stepping through the crowd with a frown.  “She is the wife of Mr. Zanderjact who heads Corvel Station.”  Valenteine stared wide-eyed between the empress and Zanderjact.


         “Lords, I am so sorry...” Valenteine said, but Kenshi’d heard enough.  Feeling as if he were on fire, he made his way to the balcony, not giving any thought to Alanya or his dance partner.


         Outside he leaned forward against the railing and ran a hand over his face.  His head was a throbbing pain right then.


         ‘What are the odds?  Some noble gets enough plastic to look enough like Ruki to scare everyone off.’  Clenching his hands, he still felt his blood running hot.  She’d worked him up without even being around and now he was surrounded by nobility with no way to release his sudden tension.  ‘Everything’s all set.  It doesn’t matter what anyone does anymore, I’ve done what I came here to accomplish.’  He touched the disk tucked safely into his jacket.  ‘Except one thing.’


         “Enough to set even the hardest people on edge, huh,” Narnia said, leaning over the railing beside him.  Kenshi clenched his jaw but forced himself to relax.


         “The adrenaline toasted me up,” he said with a shrug.


         “You’ve met her before, haven’t you.”  It wasn’t a question and Kenshi didn’t feel like answering.  “None of the other bodyguards reacted this strongly.  Whatever happened it must’ve been bad.”  Again, Kenshi shrugged and Narnia laughed, turned around and leaned back against the rail.  “Looks like I’ve struck a sore point.  You know, you’re too stressed for your own good.”  He looked at her.


         “You saying nothing ever gets to you?”


         “For the most part, no.  Why should it?”


         Kenshi let out a short bark of a chuckle and said, “Lucky girl.”  He turned to look back out at the courtyard.  Narnia leaned her head back so he could see her and smiled widely for him.


         “Guess I am,” she said before standing up straight and disappearing from view.  The next thing he knew he had two arms around his neck and was being dragged backwards.  Kenshi tried to keep his balance, but found Narnia had put a leg forward to block him.


         “Shit,” he muttered, falling into her arms as musical laughter echoed around the balcony.  As soon as he realized she’d actually managed to catch him Kenshi tried to stand up, but the damn woman wouldn’t let him.


         “You know what’s fun about being the lucky girl?” she asked between laughs.  When his only response was to struggle more she grinned down at him.  “I get to choose which guys get to be lucky.”  Kenshi stopped his struggles to raise an eyebrow at her.  After a moment he grinned back.


         Pulling an arm around, he grabbed her legs and forced her knees to buckle while pushing his other hand down to catch his fall.  Narnia tried to stay balanced, but, laughing, overextended herself to land on top of him.


         “Now I feel lucky,” he said, picking her up.


         She smiled up at him and he felt the temptation again.  But that was a trap he knew he couldn’t fall into and, after a moment’s hesitation, he tore his eyes away.


         A few nobles were staring at the scene, but Kenshi found he didn’t care.  Inside, he could make out Alanya still on the dance floor, probably not even noticing he was gone.  Then he caught a glimpse of Burlai making his way through the crowds of people and Kenshi knew what he had to do.


         “I need to take care of something,” he said to Narnia, setting her down.  She cocked her head at him and he gave a small smile.  “Won’t be long.”  She nodded and he walked back inside.


-------------------------


         Terrace felt hours of ale and wine painfully pushing at his bladder as he finally managed to pry himself from the questions of Verdichi and the other three dozen nobles.  Shouldering his way quickly through throngs of nobility, the commander made a straight line for a bathroom.  He nearly sighed with relief when he made it to the urinal, the only other noble in the room giving him an odd glance at his obvious rush.


         The door opened and closed and, awkwardly, the new entrant went for the stall right next to his own.  Not that he could see much with the panels in the way, but still.  Wasn’t it a rule that when two guys take a piss in a large and empty bathroom you take a urinal at least two down from each other?


         ‘As if that’s the most of my worries right now.’


         The noble left, another entered and Terrace and the tall man next to him finished their business at the same time.  They made for the same sink and as they were washing hands Terrace was faintly surprised to hear the man speak to him.


         “Didn’t think I’d see another Terran ‘round here,” the man said in a rasp.  Terrace looked at the man and remembered the Terran which had appeared with the Royal Family earlier.


         “Like I want to be here,” Terrace said quietly.  “Everybody wants information from the MMC.  As if they think they could solve the problems.”  The other man chuckled, the noise harsh with his rasp.


         “Yeah, that’s how it goes.  “What’s your name?”  The noble in the room finished and moved to wash his hands in an adjacent sink.  Terrace stared at the other Terran and got a strange feeling.  He looked a little familiar...


         “Burlai.  Commander Terrace Burlai.  With the Naval division.  You?”


         “They call me Lieutenant Jerro Desmond.  With the MPG.”  The noble in the room exited.


         “Ruki’s found him, so she claims.  Says he’s infiltrated the MPG...”


         Both men reacted at once.  Terrace reached for the gun in his jacket while Tamaki punched forward freakishly fast, sending him sprawling across the floor.  The man was like lightning.  Next thing he knew Tamaki had locked the bathroom door and grabbed Terrace by his coat, lifting him up and slamming him against the wall.  The commander coughed violently as the breath was forced out of him and grabbed the other man’s arm, trying to break his hold.


         “Hey, buddy,” Tamaki grated.  “You killed a lot of people, partner.”


         “The ships were destroyed.  There was no way they could’ve lived,” Terrace wheezed out.


         “I guess we’ll never know, seeing how you didn’t try.”  He pulled Terrace back from the wall and slammed him again.  “You ruined my life!” Tamaki said in a deadly whisper.


         “You joined her anyway...”


         “You have no excuse.  Fucker.”  Terrace felt himself get slammed again and he squeezed his eyes shut in a deep cringe.  “Are you working on the Titan investigation?”  He could only get out a series of coughs.  “Are you?!”


         “Yes, God dammit!  I’m heading it,” Terrace managed to get out.


         “Made your way up in the galaxy, haven’t you.”  Terrace opened his eyes to stare into his old friend’s.  Tamaki’d always been a cold man, but he never looked this cold.  This wasn’t the usual emotionlessness or determination.  This was cold, hard hatred.  And Terrace Burlai had never been more scared in all his life.


         “What the hell do you want me to do?  I thought you were dead!” he felt himself get slammed into the wall again. “I couldn’t change it once it was already done,” he forced out, hopelessly.


         Tamaki reached into his jacket and Terrace closed his eyes, knowing what was about to come.  His mind flashed to his last few years of life, his time in the Navy, his training as a SEALS, his friendship, his bond with his fellow teammates, his training to becoming an officer, his rise as a hero.


         ‘Tamaki will be the last of our team,’ Terrace realized.  ‘Fitting.  He was always the best.’


         “You’ll get this safely where it belongs and make sure nobody takes it again.  Ever.  You make sure Aiston Malcom rots.  He’s the one pulling the strings to all this.  You understand?”  Terrace opened his eyes to see a disk being held in front of his face.  Tentatively, he reached up and grabbed it.


         “I...I don’t...”


         “If you do these things I’ll forget about you.  You won’t have to worry about me again.  If you don’t do these things...”  Tamaki slammed him one more time against the wall, hard.  “I won’t kill you.  I’ll cripple you.  Slow.  Then I’ll let you die,” he said with a brutal sneer.


         Terrace felt the larger man let go and he slid to the ground, numb.  He barely noticed Tamaki turn and leave, barely felt himself stand up.  At some point he stared at the disk in numbed silence then put it safely away into his jacket.  Eventually he walked out of the bathroom, dragging his legs and hardly seeing what he was doing.    He bumped into someone violently and said a quick apology, but kept moving.


         Eventually he managed to slump into a seat at some bar where he kept a firm supply of water coming as the Cindelliac Ball unfolded around him.


-------------------------


         As Kenshi reached into his jacket he went over everything he could do right then.  He could get revenge.  Cold hard revenge that this man had deserved for years.  He could pull out his gun and blow the man away and nobody would ever have to deal with the bastard again.


         Instead of a gun, however, his fingers brushed up against a disk.  The disk.  He knew what the consequences could be.  Burlai had already shown corruption, who was to say the man wasn’t paid off by Malcom?


         But...Kenshi knew he wasn’t.  And even then, he knew there was one thing greedy people valued more than money or power.  He pulled out the disk and held it in front of Burlai’s deathly pale face.


         “You’ll get this safely where it belongs and make sure nobody takes it again.  Ever.  You make sure Aiston Malcom rots.  He’s the one pulling the strings to all this.  You understand?”  It took a moment for Burlai to work up the courage to open his eyes and a few more to reach up and take the disk.


         “I...I don’t...” Burlai started, but Kenshi interrupted, knowing he still had to guarantee allegiance.


         “If you do these things I’ll forget about you.  You won’t have to worry about me again.  If you don’t do these things...” He hit the commander against the wall, nearly losing control of his newfound strength as he did so.  “I won’t kill you.  I’ll cripple you.  Slow.  Then I’ll let you die.”


         Finally he let the man go and watched him slide to the ground.  He sneered a moment more before collecting his emotions and leaving the bathroom.


         Outside, everyone was gathering themselves for something and he noticed Berin and Faye Midolloni make their way up to the stage.  The speeches were about to start.  The Ball was heading to it’s finale.


         ‘And the last piece of the puzzle is about to be fit into place.’


         Kenshi quickly found Alanya sitting in a chair near the dance floor, a few younger nobles fawning over her.


         “Where’ve you been?  I was worried,” Alanya said as she took notice of him, ignoring the men around her as she stood up.


         “Bathroom.  Didn’t feel like disturbing your dance just to announce it,” he said, grinning.  She rolled her eyes at him.


         “Well thank you for that.”


         “Take care of business?” Narnia asked, coming to stand next to him.  His grin widened.


         “Yep.  All done.”


         “I should hope so,” Alanya said.  She wrinkled her nose at the pair.


         “Please, may I have everyone’s attention!” the emperor said, finally standing in front of the microphone.  The trio found seats as the room around them quieted down.  “Thank you.


         “First I must ask if everyone enjoyed this year’s Cindelliac Ball.”  Most people raised their glasses and murmurs of approval drifted across the room.  “Excellent.  Then I would like to thank the Song and Memory Hosting Corporation for putting together this fine event.”  There were light claps all around.  “Now then...” Berin started and Kenshi quickly lost track of the rest of the speech.


         For nearly an hour the emperor went on and on, making toasts, thanking various people and businesses while expressing loss for those who couldn’t make it or who’d died during the past year.  It was all exceedingly boring, though many of the people seemed to suck it right up.  Apparently some of them thought the man had a sense of humor.  At around 11:00 the emperor finally began his closing comments.


         “So once again thank you all for coming.  It is my hope the ties made today will be strong enough to last generations.  Now to close the night I am proud to present our movie tribute to 4027-28.”  The emperor stepped aside as a giant screen slowly fell from the ceiling.  The lights dimmed, the nobles clapped and cheered and Kenshi grinned wickedly.


-------------------------


         Yenshin felt dead on his feet by the time Emperor Midolloni got to the yearly movie tribute.  In his mind a chorus of ‘Finally!’s were echoing.  The Ball had been stressful with Malcom getting more and more tense as things went on.  He was sure the prince was going to go on a veritable rampage with the lack of any sort of confrontation.


         Then again, maybe Ruki had taken care of things outside the ballroom.  That’d be pleasant.


         The screen turned on and the picture sloppily cut a few times before coming to focus.  When it did Yenshin’s jaw dropped while Malcom became statue still.


         “...abliti...alibi...abitima...” a wasted Aiston Malcom said on screen for everyone to see and hear.  He was easy to make out, sitting back on his plush chair.  As was Ruki, standing in front of the desk with the side of her face clearly visible.


         “Abilities,” Ruki corrected.


         “Yes.  Your abliti...”  The pirate sighed on the screen.  Around the room a round of murmurs went up as everyone asked what was going on.  They all kept their eyes fixed to the picture, however.  Even Malcom, red-faced and looking to explode, could not keep his stare away.


         “I’ve searched his room.  No luck.  Either he keeps it on himself or he’s stashed it.”


         “Damnabadble pirate,” The onscreen Malcom said.  “Do you realize that is the only copy of the infra..infre...data left?”


         ‘Nothing too destructive yet,’ Yenshin thought.  ‘Malcom’s handled much worse before.’


         “No.  Since when?” asked Ruki.


         “Since your petty fight aboard the Titan, woman.  You destroyed the only other copy, as I have come to discover.”  Ruki cringed on screen.  Yenshin cringed from where he was standing.  Malcom was shaking more than cringing.


         “Oops,” the recorded Ruki said.


         “You musht take that data back,” Malcom said.


         “I will,” Ruki replied simply before floating up and through the ceiling. The picture cut out and the room went dark.  Around the ballroom people were whispering about what they’d just seen, many staring at Malcom wide-eyed.  Finally the lights went up and Yenshin was surprised to find Malcom had calmed himself, looking delicately polite as always instead of explosively angry as he was moments ago.  The emperor did not look so kind.


         “Arrest him,” he said into the microphone.  “All MPG in this room, I want Aiston Malcom arrested immediately!”  Malcom raised his hand to keep Yenshin from doing anything, something the young bodyguard had so rarely seen he didn’t understand the order at first. 


         MPGs of all races and sizes surrounded Malcom, dragging him wordlessly from the room as Yenshin stared on, helpless.


-------------------------


         Stashing his equipment, Davnick rushed to hide away before the MPG got a chance to notice him.  It was something mechanical, his thoughts being a whirlwind at that moment.


         ‘Tamaki did it,’ he thought in his haste.  ‘He beat them.’


         He wondered if he even had a job with Burlai anymore.  Probably.  The data was yet to be recovered and Ruki was still on the loose.


         ‘Fuck.  Ruki.’  His blood turned cold.  ‘She’s going to be pissed.  Damn, maybe I should quit while I’m ahead.  She might kill me for the hell of it.’  The mercenary winced.  ‘Then again, if I disappear she’s likely to hunt me down.’


         Slinging his bag of equipment over his shoulder, Davnick resigned himself to another Ruki mood swing as he walked very, very slowly back to their shared room.


-------------------------


         The crowd was standing, muttering angrily, doing everything but throwing stones and spitting.  Even Alayna had stood to watch the spectacle of Malcom being dragged away.  Kenshi smiled and looked around at the chaos he had wrought.  It was lucky he could even keep an eye on the second princess, the way the nobles were pushing to see the infamous 11th prince arrested.  Frowning, however, he found he couldn’t see Narnia anymore.


         Kenshi looked at Alanya again and the frown disappeared, this time replaced by a sadder smile.


         ‘I can’t stay,’ he thought.  ‘Maybe it would’ve been nice for awhile, but it’d get ugly soon enough.  Especially now with Burlai.’  She was trying to catch a glimpse of Malcom just like anyone else and Kenshi stared for a moment more before turning and walking away.  ‘She’ll be fine, a girl like that.’


         He tried to keep an eye out for Narnia, but the noblewoman had disappeared into the crowd.  Not like that goodbye would’ve been easy either.


         ‘I haven’t been attracted to a woman like that since Kylie.  Incredible that I knew her so little and liked her so much.  That was never my style.’  He sighed.  ‘Doesn’t matter.  It wouldn’t have worked.  Ever.’


         He made his way out of the ballroom and into the empty corridors beyond.  The noises of the crowd died out as he made his way back toward his room to pick up the few supplies he’d brought along.


         ‘Best room I’ve ever stayed in,’ he thought, shrugging on his ratty coat and picking up his only bag.  It wouldn’t take them long to figure out who he really was, he knew.  It’d really cause an uproar.  Probably get Gerald fired, not that that was a bad thing.


         Outside his room he pulled a cigar out of his pocket and put it to his lips.  He turned toward the exit, searching for a lighter, and there she was, standing a ways away in front of a large window where the moonlight spilled into the dim corridor.  He paused for a second, stashing the cigar back into his coat, before starting toward her.


         Narnia was staring expressionless out the window, barely moving.  He noticed she was wearing long white gloves over her arms, strangely enough, and when he got within a few paces she turned toward him.


         “Hey,” she said, her voice husky for once instead of melodious.  Did she know he was leaving?


         “Yo,” he said, stopping in front of the window.  He noticed then it wasn’t gloves she was wearing, but that her arms were suddenly very pale, corded with muscle where before she had simply looked slender and statuesque.


         “We had fun, huh,” she said, her voice still husky.  No, not just husky.  It didn’t sound like her voice at all.  And when he looked her in the eye those seemed different as well.  Like they were shaped differently, if that was even possible.


         “Yeah,” he said, confused.  She grinned and reached a hand up, tugging at her hair.  Her face distorted, stretched and finally peeled off to reveal something much paler, much more angular.  ‘And still beautiful,’ Kenshi couldn’t help but thinking.


         She ran a hand through her newly released blue hair, combing it out as she dropped the mask to the ground.  Looking down at herself and her still tanned body, she frowned and tore the rest of the skin off.


         “Ruki,” Kenshi whispered so low he could barely hear himself.  But she, with her newly released long, almost elven ears, heard him just fine and looked up at him with a smile.


         “Malcom will find a way out.  At least temporarily,” she said.  “He’s got a man in with Burlai set to take the data back should he ever get his hands on it.”  She held up the disk.  “Figure you should probably keep it safe until Malcom’s taken out of the picture for good.”  Walking toward him the dread pirate - the ferocious angel of death - reached forward and slid the disk into his pocket.


         “Why...?” he asked, his mind numb.  She grinned, her lips forming into something so familiar and yet so different as she snaked her arms around his neck.  Not like the dance, though, no.  Closer.  Too close.  Much too close for Ruki.  He felt his own arms wrap around her waist.


         “This is the first time I failed,” she said.  “I guess if I ever had to do so it should be because of you.”


         His heart was racing, adrenaline of a sort he hadn’t known for years - had forgotten existed - pumping through his veins.  Unconsciously his right hand moved higher on her back, just below her neck, while his left pulled her waist closer.


         ‘What the hell is going on?’ he thought to himself.  Her eyes, slitted red and predatory as they were, looked up to him in kindness.  No, more like friendship.  ‘No, more than that even.’  She was grinning up at him, pulling herself up.  He knew what she was about to do, but for the life of him he couldn’t stop it.  All he could do was look at that damn grin.  He’d always hated that grin.  He loved that grin more than anything right then.


         Narnia Celeste, the only person he’d been truly attracted to in four years, one of the few people he’d ever liked enough to so much as admit attraction to himself, was Ruki.


         Their lips touched and Kenshi realized it was he who had kissed her.  Ruki.  He was kissing Ruki.  It was the lightest touch, but damn, he wanted it.


         At once a thousand thoughts flashed through his mind.  This was Ruki.  His rival.  A mass murderer more purely evil than just about anything in existence.  And he was kissing her like a newfound lover, in a way he realized someone as rough, physical and generally frightening as her  had probably never been kissed in her long life.


         He was kissing Ruki.


         Kenshi pulled back after only a moment, letting her go and stumbling back.  She let him, still smiling.


         “I’ll see you later...Kenshi,” she said.  She walked past him, brushing against him lightly as she did so.  When he turned to continue watching her she was already floating up and through the ceiling.


         “Adios,” he whispered, confused as he hadn’t been a long while.


         Adjusting his bag, Kenshi continued with his exit.  The outside guards looked at him a bit strangely as he passed them, but he barely noticed.  He paused for a moment to attach the cigar to his lips and light it in some attempt at calming his thoughts.  His mind was running full speed, all thoughts on Ruki.


         It was a few miles to the docking bay where he’d left the Quicksilver but to Kenshi they seemed to pass by in mere minutes.  He was barely aware of his surroundings, hardly noticed anyone even when they addressed him.  It took a few tries for the guards at the spaceport to even get his attention enough for him to flash his ID.


         Slowly he trudged up his ship’s ramp, not even bothering to watch the hatch close behind him.  Eventually he made his way to the cockpit where he brought himself together enough to coordinate his launch.  Minutes later he was in hyperspace, making his way toward the other end of the galaxy where traffic was slow and the trip would buy him enough time to get some sleep.


         Stretching his arms back, he stood up from his seat, closing his eyes as he cracked his neck.  Then he opened them.


         “Oh fuck,” he said, wide awake and alert.


         There before him stood Alanya Midolloni, second princess of the Midollonian Royal Family.