In Case Of Emergency Break Fourth Wall (The Messenger Archive Book 3) Read online

  "Becoming an Enforcer?"

  The other man nodded, his expression... guarded. Vadim watched as various thoughts played over his face – more vulnerable than he usually was – as he tried to think how to honestly answer.

  "No," he said, eventually. "I regret... what happened. But I think I probably did more good than bad, over all. And if I didn't join up... who knows what would have happened to me?"

  "But if you could have the life you do, now, and wipe out those years in the uniform...?"

  The Captain shook his head, firmly. "No. I wouldn't wipe them out. Even the shitty-ass years. I know I run my mouth off about the institution, but... but there's good guys in the uniform, and they do a needful job."

  "Even me?"

  "Well, you're a damned disgrace to the uniform. When you even wear it. I mean – how are you even still employed by them?"

  "Technically I am on a 'career break' right now."

  "Living off your illegally acquired wealth? Extorted from the guilty in exchange for penance?"

  Avery snorted, and elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "You don't pay me enough in bribes to keep me in the manner to which I am accustomed, Kip."

  "Yeah, well, you can be the breadwinner in our relationship."

  "Will you cook for me if I bring home the bacon?"

  "I will cook the bacon for you, if you bring it."

  "...I am not sure whether I should be aroused, hungry, disgusted or... or what, now."

  "How about all three?"

  "I frequently am, around you, Kip."

  The big ferry ship settled down in the dock with a gentle kiss of feet to floor. Vadim was usually very critical of pilots who weren't Saidhe, but he had to admit that was a pretty smooth landing. Should be, considering how much passage on this pleasure boat cost. The private cabin was a nice touch, too. Enough room for two full-grown men to lie down on either couch, or for three to sit on each one.

  If they hadn't been so wound about the missing crew, Vadim might have taken the opportunity to enjoy the luxuries with his travelling companion. Not much like the fear of losing loved ones to kill your mood, though.

  "You want to tell me how you're secretly also a cultural attaché to the oldest Roq, Gunner?" he asked, looking through the fake window view screen at the lush world beyond.

  "I don't think I could be the Za's amanuensis if I was, Kip. So for once, I'll disappoint you."

  "Knowing you? You could, and be the Poet Laureate for the Kior-Dhalia."

  A choking sound, and Vadim was pleased to see the Enforcer change colour.

  "You got to be joking me. I couldn't write a poem if the fate of the universe depended upon it."

  "That would have to be some pretty important poem, if it was able to save the universe," Vadim mused.

  "You know, I bet the Dhalias have a folktale about a poem like that."

  "You kidding? They likely have three. And the poem in each will be completely different."

  "... 'And 'lo, the monster turned askance / And saw his reflection in a glance / At the river's surface by and by / Dum-de-dum-de something sky...' ?"

  "Wasn't half bad," the Captain said. "Considering."

  "Yeah, well, you bring it out in me."

  "Can I put it back in?"

  "We are now cleared to allow departure," came the pleasingly banal voice over the intercom. "We hope you enjoy your stay on Draqqi. Please check you have all your baggage prior to departure. Should you require any travel advice, our representatives on the planet's surface will be more than willing to assist you."

  "Guess that's our cue to queue."

  "Get. Out," Avery snapped, shaking his head in dismay.

  ***

  [Ashroe: Bwahahaha.]

  [Sianor: What now?]

  [Ashroe: I'm imagining the Dhalias. Like, slam poetry to settle disputes. Other people do trial by combat, they do trial by rhyming couplets.]

  [Sianor: OMG. A metaphor-off.]

  [Ashroe: Picking your partner by the love letters they write. Or finding your mate based on their singing voice.]

  [Sianor: I'd love to write some whimsical one-shot from their perspective. Like: the world is falling apart, and they're all 'that happens every five days, but dude look at this super chill stream'.]

  [Ashroe: I think I'd like to be a Dhalia. Apart from the whole – you know – mayfly thing. Being highly thought of for my artistic prowess would be a welcome change.]

  [Sianor: Would the payoff for being happy every day be worth the decreased lifespan? I don't think so.]

  [Ashroe: You know me, I like being miserable. So if I was a Dhalia, would I still be a grumpy old bitch?]

  [Sianor: Interesting question.]

  [Ashroe: And is it miserable if it's masochism?]

  [Sianor: This is too deep for a Tuesday afternoon. I haven't even had coffee yet.]

  [Ashroe: Trust me, coffee does not make philosophy easier. The only thing that helps – and I use the word liberally here – is alcohol, sleep deprivation, and starlight.]

  [Sianor: When you're over here...]

  [Ashroe: Precisely. We'll do all three.]

  [Sianor: Shivers.]

  ***

  Saidhe walked on unsure legs, struggling to keep up with the Sianars' long strides. She'd barely eaten the horrible rations they'd provided, hardly had chance to move about, and she really rather badly needed to use a bathroom. Soon. (Another reason not to touch the puce-coloured monstrosity they'd been offered.) Her head still hurt, and she wondered if she was mildly concussed. Had they bothered to check their health out at all?

  She and Loap were taken into a large room, one which must have been at least thirty feet high. There was no doubt about it: this was a Sianar-built ship. No other race went for such large rooms onboard a ship. Well, other than the Dhalias, and that was because with their wings they could maximise the whole height of the wall as functional space. For the Sianar it was a measure of prestige, nothing more.

  Even worse – or better – was the position of the room on the flank of the ship. There was a large view-screen on one side of the room. It was gridded, meaning there was no huge section of clear, space-worthy glass, but it was still an opulent mess. Saidhe never understood the need: external sensors and videos could zoom in and give you even better visibility than the naked eye. She'd rather have a recreated image, safer, than waste money on view-screens like this one.

  It seemed like they were in a geo-synchronous orbit, though their position meant they couldn't see which planet they were orbiting. The screen (most likely deliberately) faced the deepness of space. Saidhe couldn't recognise the star patterns well enough to pinpoint them. Without instruments, it was nigh on impossible to do by eye, anyway. Their guards pushed them towards the centre of the room, and Saidhe took the opportunity to press just slightly against Loap's side, offering silent comfort.

  "Why did you bring us here?" Loap asked. Saidhe watched as the Sianar's jaw flexed, a flash of enamel and a threat-posture. The Roq wasn't impressed, no reaction showing on his face or in his body language.

  The double doors at the head of the room opened, revealing another Sianar. This one was easily eight foot tall, about as tall as Sianar came. His face had the slightly narrower set to the front of his muzzle, longer and subtler, plus the thicker neck under his mane that indicated he was male. His fur was pale, his face asymmetrically marked by a white flash through one eye. Surprisingly, that wasn't the most striking feature. Instead, it was the proud, puffed-up mane around his neck. The Sianar had the same pale ruff that Kre did, which meant he was likely related to her.

  Saidhe couldn't smell the family links the same way a Sianar or Roq could, but the visible continuity was enough. Was this Ail? Was it Kre's father? They'd said they were taking them to see the Za, after all.

  "Please," the Sianar said, his tail curling around one leg to stroke the inside of his own ankle. It was an oddly normal gesture, and Saidhe was almost laughing at the thought of it. Did he itch? Or did he not know he
did it? "Be well met."

  "Who the hell are you, and why the hell did you kidnap us?" she asked.

  A growl, behind her, and she found her hands clenching automatically. Sianar were terrifying when they were in a bad mood. They were known for the carnage they could wreak, and even though her species hadn't evolved around them, they sure as hell could recognise a threat when she heard one.

  A paw came up, waving the other Sianar down from their aggressive stances. It felt a little smug, and Saidhe narrowed her eyes.

  "Child, did my Ardeshir not introduce me? I am the Za."

  "You are not Ail," Loap snapped at him. "You are no Za to your people."

  If he wasn't Ail, who in the hell was he, Saidhe wondered. Ail only had two children, both female.

  "The old Za is dead. I am Cil. I am his firstborn, and I am now the Za to my people." He let his jaw drop slightly, tongue and teeth flashing very subtly. "And you are my guests."

  "Do you keep most guests in chains and feed them gruel? Because – gotta say – the Roq have a better idea of hospitality than a head of state," Saidhe snapped.

  "Those who warrant it, yes."

  "And what did we do to 'warrant' this?" Loap asked.

  "You both – well, mostly the Roq – are going to help me make my point." His rear claws tapped over the flooring, slightly out of tempo, out of sync. It was frustrating in the extreme. "It's time we returned to the old ways."

  "To the... for the love of all the water on Aniba! You have got to be joking! Are you crazy? Did someone drop you on your head? For one: who the hell even are you? And for two: do you really think you can just wipe out progress?" Saidhe tried to charge forwards, but the Sianar behind her just yanked the chain back making her progress stutter. "If Ail is dead, you're not taking over! And if you tried, it wouldn't work!"

  "Really? When the other two claimants can't even decide between them? When one lived on Raboros for years and was never named, and the other spent her time gallivanting around with... this..." and his paw waved over Loap. "This abomination?"

  Beside her, Loap actually hissed.

  "It is time for a renaissance. There will be no Ur interference. There will be only Sianar excellence. Our lives were dulled down to the palate of the weak and ignorant. I will remind Sianar what it truly means to excel. And I will start with the humiliation Hale-Hale. The last zenith of zeniths. He will swear himself to me, and all his brood-kin."

  Saidhe felt her blood run cold at that, and she staggered. He... really meant that?

  "Yes. I will take his freedom, and I will do it before the world. And then I will take my rightful position as head of state."

  "You are insane." Loap's voice cracked, and Saidhe could see his eyes whirling in distress. "I would never agree. And if I did... it would be war."

  "It would. A war which I will win. The Sianar are the strongest race, and we will resume our rightful position at the top of the foodchain." Cil's tail uncurled, stretching out as if he'd just been napping, not threatening slavery and open war.

  "Why are you telling us this?"

  "Because I want them to see the fear on your faces when I broadcast it live. I want them to know you knew. And couldn't resist."

  "You're insane," Saidhe repeated.

  "No. I'm anything but."

  ***

  [Ashroe: And... bam.]

  [Sianor: He really is nuts. It makes no sense to – well – do any of it. Do it, or tell them.]

  [Ashroe: Nope. He really is nuts. Like, a jar full. A mix of various seeds.]

  [Sianor: Poor babies.]

  [Ashroe: True crazies are scary in a weird way. Like, you can't... understand them. But I still think the un-crazies are worst. The ones who are purely rational, who work within the rules and still win.]

  [Sianor: I don't know which I'd find most unsettling. I think the logical ones – at least you could work your way around them. Find some way to sensibly dissuade them from things. But the true nutjobs are irrational.]

  [Ashroe: True. But you know where you stand with them: very, very far away. There's no lulling you into a false sense of security, no thinking they might be nice.]

  [Sianor: Yeah. Hmm. It's... a tough call.]

  [Ashroe: I have to go sort out travel stuff tomorrow. I'll be on later. Be on my phone, though.]

  [Sianor: It's really happening, huh?]

  [Ashroe: It really is.]

  ***

  Chapter Six – Mission: Codetermination

  Vadim had never seen so many Roq elders in one place at once. This had to be some kind of a record, really. He wasn't one to get nervous in crowds, not even when speaking to them, but this had to be the collective knowledge of their species' long years. He and Ithon were very much the odd ones out. Simeon seemed to know more than half of the people here, which made Kip wonder just how well the whole 'legally dead' thing would hold up.

  Still. For all Peters claimed he wasn't good at plans, this had to be thought through on some level.

  "Is every major family represented here?" He spoke under his breath, barely moving his head towards his companion.

  "From headcount... well over half. Enough to make decisions that would count. It's not an official council, but it's..."

  "A quorum."

  Ithon nodded. He seemed to be a little more relaxed here, and Kip didn't know why. Although his partner in crime always had been the more sedate of the two of them. He rarely got angry, and he rarely showed anything other than sarcastic dislike. The Captain lounged back against the table, arms folded, half expecting food to be wheeled out any minute. Roq were renowned for their love of pomp around a pie or ten. There had to be some superficial reason the Judge had used as a pretence for this meeting.

  "Relax," Avery said, elbow to his side, hidden from casual glances. "What are you freaking out about, now? Did you make yourself a brood-enemy at some point, or is there something else on your mind?"

  "No, it's just... this is all too real. You know? It was bad enough finding out Kre was the heir-apparent. Now we're in an unofficial Roq conclave, and I should be three normal jobs down the line by now."

  "You were never the type to live a life of normal jobs. Don't pretend you're not loving this."

  "I just – it's making me antsy, you know? All this standing around, hands in our beltloops, talking about our problems..."

  "We need the Roq on our side, what with the potential for a Za or Za-le taking a Hale prisoner. As well as Saidhe... but she matters less to them." He held a hand up, no doubt to forestall the grumbling about how she was just as important. "We need them to trust us."

  "Why are we here, though?" He gestured at the milling crowd. The Judge was wandering through groups, passing information through the floating social clouds. Roq didn't do formal, not to discuss something like this. They tended to group together and let the conversation travel by osmosis through their number. "Peters has it pretty much in hand."

  "Perhaps he thinks that seeing the wronged crew-mates strengthens the emotional appeal? I'm not certain. I just would be wary of putting your foot too far into your mouth by a—"

  "You were going to say 'emotional outburst', weren't you?" Vadim's eyes narrowed, squinting up at the taller man. "You were going to warn me not to get shouty."

  Avery's eyes were amused by that. "Telling you not to would be counter-productive. You tend to do it, regardless. And probably more, when forbidden from it."

  "Maybe that's why he brought me. Maybe he wants me to stomp my feet. Put a personal face on the problem." Vadim tapped his fingers behind him on the table. One, two, three, four. One, two, three four. He could do that. He was usually two puffs of air away from a meltdown on the best of days. Today was not the best of days.

  A ripple moved through the crowd before he got any further, and then the vidscreen on one wall blinked into life.

  "That wasn't expected." Avery started to pace closer, and then paused in shock. "Is that...?"

  "Who the hell is that?"

  "
That's... Cil."

  The pager in Vadim's pocket suddenly went wild.

  ***

  "We need to talk."

  Kre lifted her muzzle from Biann's shoulder, blinking up at her sister.

  "Now."

  Biann nodded, and helped her straighten herself out. The tone in her sister's voice was one you didn't ignore. Not at all. She licked a bow-string back into place, following Eru.

  Eru made a gesture, turning on the vidscreen.

  Kre... just stared. Her ears went flat to her skull, every strand of fur pulled in close. Her tail slashed the air once, then tucked between her legs. She couldn't believe her eyes, but... "He's dead."

  "So I thought, too. But apparently not. Apparently our dear, departed brother is less departed than we thought." Eru peeled back her lips from her teeth, the gesture unconscious. "He has your friends, as suspected. He declares only the Hale Roq, but doubtless he has the Hleen, too."