Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) (32 page)

******

Chapter 24

“Well done, de Coeur. You are up to your neck
in trouble again, I see.”

Steg spun around to face the speaker. “Denke!” he exclaimed. “You’ve a fine sense of timing. You can hold my coat for me while I deal with a sword assassin.”

“You need someone to do more than hold your coat. The whole damned town is buzzing with your forthcoming fight. Remind me to send you on a secret mission, sometime.”

Millie looked bewildered at the semi-serious exchange between the two men. She and Steg had just departed their apartment for the noon encounter with the guild sword assassin when the newcomer had approached, unannounced. Steg explained after he made introductions.

“Denke organized a spot of bother for me on
Ziangka
and then fled the scene of his crime, leaving me to face a court-martial.” Denke looked pained at this description. “I daresay now he’s come to gloat.”

“Your misjudgment cuts me to the quick, de Coeur,” protested Denke. “Duty called and I had to leave you unattended.
I didn’t realize the depth of the mess you’d got yourself into.
I came to rescue you as soon as I could, which is why I’m here.”

“Your offer’s a fraction late, Denke. Now back on Hellfire, it would have been a different story. Come on, we don’t have time to spend here chatting.”

“Better fill me in, de Coeur. What are these friendly little fellows for?” Denke queried, indicating the monitors.

“They’re League justice monitors. I’m under threat from House of Aluta, and these are supposed to protect me from illegal attacks. The sword assassin’s legal, and I assume, hired by the company.”

“A sword assassin was foolish enough to challenge you?”

“Yes. Now tell me. I’ve a burning question. How the hell did you leave the star ship?”

“Quietly, de Coeur. When you can travel without big ears here, we’ll have a chat, I promise. Now what are your plans?”

“Apart from seeing off this assassin? Waiting on funds to buy passage off Tacia. The company has a firefighter in orbit that’ll probably try to interfere. I’ll need to deal with it, as well.” Steg was silent for a moment. “One thing, Denke. You owe me.”

“Yes?”

“Milnaret’s a free Fain. If anything untoward happens to me today, I burden you with her care and protection. You are to ensure her safety and protect her, get her away from these Alutan thugs. Understand?” Steg waited for the major’s reply. He could feel the trembling pressure of Millie’s grip on his arm. He stopped and looked at Denke. “Agreed?”

“Agreed, on my honor, de Coeur.”

Steg smiled down at his Fain companion. “All will be well, one way or another.”

“All will be well if you win this contest unharmed and with your life,” countered Millie as they continued on their way.

A larger, jostling, noisy crowd had gathered around the small arena. Steg ignored the crush of curious onlookers and prepared himself as he waited for the arrival of his opponent. The crowd grew silent as the noon hour approached, tension building. A sudden parting of the crowd announced the arrival of the sword assassin and he moved confidently towards the center of the arena accompanied by two assistants, their black varma robes fluttering like sails as they approached.

“Well, stripling, you turned up. A pity, for you won’t survive this encounter. And then what’s yours will be mine.” He leered at Millie, little realizing she was almost as competent a fighter as Steg. He ignored Denke.

“Assassin, I came to fight, not to talk.”

“I’m ready,” the assassin signaled his preparedness by dropping his black robe and drawing his sword. His attendants drew back, carrying the robe.

“I challenge this sword assassin,” cried Steg and Ebony was in his hand. No one had seen the movement and the crowd sighed its surprise. The arena cleared.

The two combatants moved together, each confident and surefooted, eager to engage. Ebony was humming its song of power and Steg felt a surge of assurance from its almost separate life force.

“Come, stripling, come closer,”
the assassin
taunted, beckoning.

Steg moved in swiftly and the sudden clash of swords jarred both combatants. The sword assassin looked surprised for an instant and then struck out, forcing Steg to defend and defend again. The assassin was trying to force a quick conclusion to the encounter but Steg moved back and the crowd broke and scattered behind him. Steg flicked a sudden response back to the sword assassin, who parried his attack and they locked swords, faces almost touching.

“The Fain’s free, assassin. She won’t be yours,” taunted Steg, jumping aside and defending a sudden riposte.

The two swordsmen tracked and traversed, each intently seeking a weakness in the other’s defense, to no avail. Steg felt the weight of Ebony lighten as the battle drew on; it became an extension of his arm, of his mind. He felt a flow of power. He struck and struck again, thrusting viciously at the defense of the assassin. He moved forward and Ebony sang its song of victory. Steg saw his opponent’s eyes widen in sudden fear.

The sword assassin disengaged and stepped quickly back out of reach. “Break,” he cried, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Steg looked startled. “Is this permitted?” he asked the Tacian League Quaestor who was standing beside the monitors.

“Why yes, either party may cry break once and rest for up to five minutes without loss of honor or other penalty.”

Steg remained alert and prepared, Ebony firmly in his grip. He watched the sword assassin confer with his assistants. Their discussion was intense. At last the assassin signaled his readiness to continue. Steg noted without surprise that the assassin was moving with more caution and less confidence. He entered into the attack, thrusting and parrying, buffeting the sword assassin with powerful and deadly sword strokes.

The sword assassin faltered and feinted, attempting to entice Steg into an error of overconfidence. Steg refused the invitation and pressed his attack. Now he struck at his opponent’s head, now at his legs, now thrusting at his body, always parrying and avoiding the less effective moves of the sword assassin. Steg had a reservoir of energy and his body moved faultlessly and effortlessly. Steg knew he could wear down the sword assassin with energy to spare. The crowd moved, sensing the inevitability of the sword assassin’s fate.

Again the sword assassin disengaged and stepped well back, raising his sword with a flourish and a strange display of symbolism. His sword sparked with fire, the flame growing and rolling to form a ball at the tip. The crowd groaned their displeasure. The sword assassin aimed and thrust the fiery ball at Steg. The fireball traveled rapidly across the short distance, growing in size and intensity as it came closer and closer. Steg faltered, unsure of his defense against the fireball. Ebony hummed, almost jumping out of his hand as it detected the threat, and Steg raised the blade to fend off the approaching fire. The black blade pierced the fireball and he felt a shock run up his arm as Ebony absorbed its energy. He exulted; the fireball had not harmed him. He moved into the attack, oblivious to the wonder of the crowd and to the fear of the assassin. Steg’s now desperate opponent threw himself forward, meeting attack with attack. Gradually the force of the assassin’s attacks faded as he weakened. Steg paused to give his opponent an opportunity to cry quarter but the sword assassin declined the gesture.

With lips tight, the assassin pressed back into the attack. Steg could see only one conclusion to the encounter and drove Ebony past the weakened guard of the assassin. The sigh of the crowd followed his final blow. The assassin fell, exhausted and severely wounded. Steg stood back and saluted his fallen foe. The crowd slowly dispersed, silent in their appreciation of swordsmanship. The two guild attendants carried off their fallen companion. Steg returned Ebony to its scabbard and then almost fell as a wave of exhaustion hit him.

“So sword assassins use fireballs,” murmured Denke as he assisted Steg. “Apart from electronics in Ebony, what magic did you use? I think your Fain lady may have helped somewhat?”

Steg did not answer. He was exhausted and in no condition to review the fight. The sword assassin had been a worthy opponent. Now, with Denke supporting him on one side and Millie on the other, they made their way back to their accommodation. Steg slept for hours, a deep and healing sleep which the Fain attended.

******

Chapter 25

As Steg slowly awakened, in that half state between
sleep and full alertness, he realized the Alutan firefighter was somewhere in orbit above the planet posing a threat to his and Millie’s safety. A major threat, and he had no knowledge of its capabilities. He reached out, seeking, searching for the whisper of its system. He detected and discarded a number of ship systems. Practice was improving the range and depth of his ability to identify and link with ship systems. He listened to the electronic tangle of space, separating natural noise from ship systems, and then identified each star ship, sometimes by taste, sometimes by color, sometimes by both or neither. He heard numerous distant electronic murmurs, their messages unintelligible and indecipherable, their coherence lost in the impossible distances of space. The background was star noise, the random stirrings of insensate systems blended to a deep rumble of blurred ululations as they struggled for life. Steg quickly blanked out these sources, afraid to be drawn into the intense turmoil of their painful struggles. He concentrated on the sensible systems, those with coherence and identity. At last he found the firefighter. He merged with its system, absorbing and studying it until he was able to see with its sensors and hear with its detectors. He accessed its memories, read its data cells. He understood its deliberations.

The firefighter was a long distance traveler, a private sloop rigged for deep space. He noted its heavy armor and illegal arms, and he counted the force that it carried. House of Aluta had dispatched a powerful, armed unit from its own force of military professionals, soldiers of fortune, mercenaries who signed on for life and who were prepared to lose it in service of the company. Nominally they were a security force, functioning to detect and deter enemies of the company where local forces were either non-existent or else corrupt or possible inept, and where the arm of the Imperial Fleet was unable to reach. In fact they were a private army trained and ready to settle with arms and force any dispute against the interests of House of Aluta. The company was prudent in their utilization and never used its private force against Imperial interests. The company was not yet strong enough to challenge the Empire.

Steg admired the sleek and deadly craft. He was determined somehow to capture the sloop and make it his own; that would be a fitting reversal, he thought.

Suddenly he was wide-awake, his energy restored, his appetite ravenous. He refused to speak with Denke until he had eaten. Millie prepared a meal and he ate. When he had finished he turned to Denke.

“You can talk all you wish, now.”

“What about little big ears?”

Steg thought for a moment. He did not answer Denke. Instead he sought the robotic program of the monitors and, without triggering an alarm, carefully rearranged their eavesdropping programs. Now they were temporarily deaf. They would revert back to full functionality after an hour or so, and his interference would be undetectable.

“Not a problem,” reassured Steg. “I still have two questions. Why did you throw me to the wolves on
Ziangka
? And how did you leave the ship?”

“I told you, de Coeur, duty called. My CO sent an urgent signal and I had to respond. I knew Captain Gallos had been subverted by House of Aluta, I just didn’t expect things to move as fast and as far as they did. My error. And I know the result was almost fatal for you. I came as soon as I could, I assure you. Why did I come? We want you, de Coeur. We need recruits of your caliber, with your—attributes. It is a dire need.”

Steg was not impressed. “Why should I have anything to do with Imperial Special Forces?”

“Two reasons. I have offered you our assistance against your Homeworld enemies. Oh, not that you must have our assistance to overcome them, but we can help, we can make it a lot easier. The second reason is the answer to your other question.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Denke. In case you need reminding, your promises have proven somewhat nebulous, from my point of view.”

“What can I say?”

“Answer my second question. How did you leave the star ship? A massive power usage occurred at that time, which somehow is linked. And don’t worry about Millie—if I have anything to do with the Specials, she’ll be involved as well.”

“Very well. This is one of those ’if I tell you I’ll have to kill you’ secrets. The Special Forces have guarded this information and we’ve killed to keep the secret. So, if I answer you, and then you refuse to join us, we will have on our hands what can only be described as a major impasse. Understand?”

“I think so,” confirmed Steg. Millie nodded and remained silent as the two men determined their paths.

“Well, be it on my head, I suppose. The answer’s relatively simple although the issues it raises are not. The star ship’s equipped with a portal, as are a number of Fleet star ships.”

“A portal?” cried Steg. “Are you serious?”