Café Galactica, Cingulum

Mirach

15 April 3133

“Elora fired me,” Hanna Leong said in a choked voice. “She put that airhead Bethany into my newscast, told me I wasn’t good enough, and then she fired me!”

Dale Ortega saw how hard she tried not to cry. He reached across the small table at the sidewalk café and took her hand. The sounds of the city went away for that moment. Gone were the cars whistling through the twilight not two meters away. Dale barely noticed The Republic Tower, the tallest building on the planet, as he usually did. Something about its cloud-impaling apex, especially at sunset, inspired him and made him believe anything was possible. When he and Austin were youngsters, they had come to loiter at this very café and watch the top stories being laid into place. When his father had dedicated the building to Devlin Stone, Dale and Austin had stood beside him for the first time in an official capacity.

Their mother had died only a week earlier, and Sergio Ortega had wanted to involve his boys more in day-to-day routine to keep their minds off the tragedy. Somehow, Dale never thought of the Tower as being a tribute to Devlin Stone as much as to his mother. Dale struggled to find the words to inspire in Hanna the same comfort it represented for him.

“You can do better,” he told her. “You’ve got talent and you’ve got more ambition than any other woman I’ve ever seen.” He grinned and added, “You’ve almost got as much as me.”

“Austin’s the one with ambition,” Hanna said, dabbing at her tears and smiling a little. “You’re the one with the boyish charm. Remember?”

“I forget everything when I’m with you. Remember when we met?”

“You spilled a drink on me at a reception I was covering for the Ministry of Information. I thought you were a complete dolt.”

“Your beauty dazzled me,” Dale said. He surprised himself when he realized he meant every word. Before, with other women, it had been a come-on. Not with Hanna. “That you didn’t shout and get all mad that I’d ruined a good dress—”

“It was a gown, thank you,” Hanna said.

“You accepted disaster well.”

“And I accepted a date with you. You moved fast. Maybe you are ambitious,” she said. Then Hanna’s smile faded. “And Elora fired me. I suppose I should have expected it, but it was still a surprise.”

“Did she know you had a meeting with my father?” Dale asked. “I asked him earlier today about it, but he wouldn’t answer. Of course, we were receiving the Envoy at the time.” Dale hadn’t seen Hanna for a couple days and he had been as caught up in preparations for Jerome Parsons as everyone else. Not only had Manfred Leclerc assigned him to position the FCL guards, but his father had kept him jumping as liaison between the protocol officer and the transportation chief. It had been a relief when his father and the Envoy had driven away. This was the first chance he’d had to learn how Hanna’s meeting had gone.

“I don’t know,” Hanna said. “Maybe Elora knew about our meeting. She tries to know everything.” Hanna looked forlornly at him. “She fired me so abruptly, she must know.”

“My father will do something,” Dale said.

“I can’t prove my allegations. Oh, some I can document. She is the bastard child of a Clan raider, but that’s no crime. I was getting closer to finding out if she had been in touch with Radick. Being fired means I’ve lost my best contacts in the Ministry.”

“Did Papa believe you?” asked Dale. He held her hand tighter.

“He was noncommittal, but I think so. I’m sure Elora intends to use Tortorelli against him and depose him. From things she’s said, I believe she’s got the crazy idea that delivering Mirach to the Steel Wolves will give her even more power.”

Dale motioned her to silence as the waiter came to their table.

“Two coffees. Do you have Terran import?” Dale asked.

“Only domestic,” the waiter said, looking up and down the street and avoiding Dale’s direct gaze.

“Two coffees. And food always calms me down,” he said, trying to remember his last meal. He had skipped eating since an early breakfast in the FCL barracks because of preparations for Parsons’ arrival. “Kulebiaka and the coffee,” Dale said, knowing the meat-and-vegetable-stuffed pastry was always good to tame even his most savage hunger.

The waiter looked down the street again, brushed back his hair, then turned and hurried into the small café. Dale started to call after the waiter, then stopped.

“What’s wrong, Dale?” Hanna asked.

“I—nothing, I guess. The waiter seemed more interested in the traffic than he did taking my order.” Dale shrugged it off.

Dale took Hanna’s hand in both of his and started to tell her he was certain there would be a position on the Baron’s staff for her, when he heard the screech of tires and the roar of an engine. A car veered toward them and leaped the curb.

“Hanna!” he cried. He dived across the small round table, arms trying to circle and protect her. The car crashed into Hanna and brushed past Dale. He flew through the air and slammed into the next table. He tried to sit up, but his muscles refused to obey. His thoughts were jumbled and he couldn’t concentrate until a mental image of Hanna’s frightened face burned away the fog.

Dale crawled toward her on hands and knees and looked down into her face. He felt as if he had fallen down a long, dark shaft. From the way her head canted to one side he knew she was dead.

“Hanna,” he grated out, touching her cheek. Sirens blared in the distance, but it didn’t matter. The ambulance was already too late.

Ministry of Information, Cingulum

Mirach

15 April 3133

“Quite an impressive organization, Lady Elora,” Jerome Parsons said, looking around the broadcast studio. His head bobbed up and down, causing his triple chins to bounce about. “You have done well with a limited technical base. Not that Mirach doesn’t have fine minds and decent access to current technology, mind you.”

“Please, Envoy, I understand what you mean,” Elora said. She moved with deliberate steps that caused her purple silk dress to hiss slightly like an aroused snake. Parsons watched her with some amusement. She knew this focused his attention on her, both visually and aurally. What she seemed not to know was that he had seen such tactics before, on a dozen other worlds. Or perhaps she was vain enough to believe she was more appealing than any other could be. Parsons found such egotism tiring.

“I’m sure you do,” Parsons said as he idly brushed the controls with the tips of his pudgy fingers. The roving fingers came to a halt over one section of the control board. He expertly adjusted a control and brought up a view of Cingulum on the monitor screen.

“Such a lovely city in the evening. I am sorry I missed the sunset. With a star decanting such wine red light, it would have been spectacular. But I was trapped in that limousine with its armored-glass tinted windows.”

“The Baron has only your safety at heart.”

“I am sure,” Parsons said, adjusting other dials. “He has a great duty, as do you, Lady Elora.”

“What do you mean, Excellency?”

“The Ministry of Information controls more than eighty percent of the newscasts. That is a great burden, I am sure.” Parsons saw how she turned cautious.

“The Ministry supports our world’s endeavors, however it can. The cost of equipment and the dearth of trained professionals restricts others from joining us in broadcasting the news.”

“Being an agency of the government, it helps that you have a direct pipeline to the Baron’s office, too,” Parsons said.