Chapter 21

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"Your Lordship! Baroness Istar's yacht confirms the docking request," whispered the captain of the Istal from somewhere behind me.

Alex reluctantly looked away from the screen and turned around:

"So dock!" With a slight irritation, he replied.

The captain's manner of asking his permission for every occasion was beginning to piss him off. The endless "What shall we do, Your Grace?" questions were only paused in hyperspace.

"Yes, Your Lordship!" The "troublemaker" nodded courteously and quickly headed back to the command gallery to " execute".

Though, perhaps, the captain is simply demonstrating his utmost respect for my Lordship in this way. Indeed, he can't live without my wise guidance. Or maybe it's in their code of conduct: "If you have any questions, please address them to your lordship personally".

On the screen was the destination of their short voyage - Baroness Istar's yacht. Close-up and enlarged. Through the observation window, the yacht looked like a small, bright star - exactly like thousands of others, moving around and stationery.

"It's a strange yacht, isn't it?" Alex shared his doubts.

It was a shark in the shape of a wrinkled gray yacht, with a huge cube of engine block instead of a tail. Along the side in big jagged letters, as if painted in red paint, was inscribed "Gryzlik" - must have been the name of this proud ship. The drawing at the bottom of the bow, of a huge grinning toothy mouth, was done in the same sloppy manner as the inscription on the side and only made the ship look even more like a shark.

Like a cheeky, ruffled shark.

And what it didn't look like at all was a yacht.

"It's not a yacht," Taer replied, not taking her mesmerized gaze off the screen. "It's a disarmed frigate. Well, at least it should be disarmed," she added somewhat uncertainly.

"Is it only Baroness Istar, as the Emperor's close friend, allowed to use frigates instead of yachts, or can ordinary nobles join in as well?" Alex inquired, counting on the fact that Taer, with her "navy" background, should be aware of the matter.

"In general, this use of old military equipment is allowed, but it is rarely used because each ship needs separate permission from a special vehicle commission. It's such a hassle that most people prefer not to get involved. Besides, inside, a frigate is much less comfortable than a yacht. "

"By the way, what kind of frigate was it?"

"It sounds crazy, but it looks exactly like the Furious. Although I definitely remember being told in an introductory lecture on modern warships that this class was still on the design machines. As such, the events of the HV-Show are all fiction."

Alex raised an eyebrow in interest:

Some kind of famous ship?

"It's a Holo Show," Taer brushed me off. "I didn't see much of it when it started. I was getting ready to join the Guard, and after that, it was no longer about the holo."

The ships drew nearer, and Baroness Istar's yacht was already clearly visible through the panoramic window. Soon the Istal, which was even slightly larger than the frigate, was "lying on her side" and began to move carefully under the belly of the Gryzlik, aligning the docking windows.

"Your Lordship," the Captain leaned over the gallery railing. "The docking will be completed in about a minute."

Releasing the Captain with a wave of his hand, Alex took the sleek leather briefcase containing the "arguments" from his chair and, accompanied by Taer, headed quickly towards the large airlock door.

"Still, it's not a good idea," Taer said nervously. "I mean, from a security point of view. Meeting Baroness Istar when it's just the two of us and in her territory..."

"Well, let's hope she doesn't kill us on the spot, and we get away with minor damage," Alex tried to quip, who was a little nervous after watching the footage of Lady Faith.

The beating of journalists was not the most brutal episode at all.

"It's unlikely she'll kill us," Taer agreed. "But we might come back in the same shape as those poor souls from the 'resisted' transport." She added with a grim smile.

Alex shrugged but said nothing. Twenty haggard poor souls with severed legs were an uncommonly unpleasant and memorable sight. Especially as the unknown cameraman, probably to shock the venerable public, paid a great deal of attention to the spot where the gray uniform trousers were interrupted by a scorched stripe and transitioned to a dark red gore. After this footage went viral through the news channels, the vast majority of ships encountering Lady Faith's small pirate flotilla preferred to surrender without a fight. For obvious reasons, no one wanted to become the next group of 'shorteners'.

There were persistent rumors that the Baroness personally chopped the legs of the prisoners, for which she was nicknamed the "High Lady". This information, along with three video recordings and the baroness' communicator code, Alex received when he was asked by the cabinet "cluster" to find "all available information on Baroness Istar". And while the veracity was in many cases questionable, the picture did not paint a most appetizing one. The one virtue most sources acknowledged for Lady Faith was that the Baroness always kept her word. And that gave one a certain amount of hope.

They arrived at the airlock door, where a technician in a white yacht crew uniform was waiting for them. Taer interrupted his attempt to open the door with a gesture, unbuttoned the bottom clasps of her tunic, and fiddled with the info box of her personal shield belt, which was hidden under her clothing.

"So you're saying that the high nobles used to be allowed to have their own battleships?" It occurred to Alex that it would be much cozier to negotiate with Lady Faith by flying in, say, a dreadnought rather than a yacht.

He would fly around so unobtrusively and we would have a conversation...

"It's still possible," the "specialist" sniggered, not raising her head. "Just without the hyperdrive."

"What's the point?"

"Well..." Taer sighed, buttoning up. "A ship without hyperdrive isn't what you'd call a fully-fledged warship, but it makes sense. Planetary defense and intra-system patrolling," she squatted in front of Alex, pulling up his shirt as she tried to do so. "It's useful to have ships in case of conflict among the noble clans of the same domain... or an attack from some external enemy or unrest among the commoners. Then again, many buy fighters or stormtroopers, and they can also be transported to the site by civilian freighter in case of emergency."

"I see." Alex tucked his shirt in. "Do I have anything like that?"

"No, before the poisoning, all your armed forces consisted of me alone." The 'specialist' smirked as she stood up. She ran her hand over her tunic once more, checking for anything sticking out, and waved to the technician - "open up!"

The airlock door hissed faintly to the side, and they stepped out into the transparent tube of the intake port, where it was quiet and frosty. Ahead of them, the square aperture of the airlock port of the Gryzlik glowed.

There was no one in sight to greet them. Alex glanced at Taer and shrugged at her silent question, We're not proud - we'll go in ourselves when we have to. As they approached, it became clear that there was no floor beyond the airlock, just beyond the opening was a steep well, the opposite wall of which was illuminated by long and narrow glowing panels. Freezing in front of the well, Alex noticed an inscription above the opening, made in red, slightly faded paint: "Warning! Opposite vectors of gravity!". Above the inscription was a diagram showing how to overcome such a predicament when picking up passengers and cargo. Alex cautiously peered through the opening.

So the outer wall of the well with the lights is the corridor ceiling and the inner wall is the floor.

"Don't be afraid, Your Highness!" A man's voice came from deep within the well. "Go ahead. I'll catch you and your companion up here if you need me. You will not fall!"

Taer shrugged and, keeping the same nonchalant expression, stepped down, plunging almost plumb into the well. With her arms slightly outstretched, she touched the inner wall of the well, and after taking two quick steps to slow down, she stopped.

Alex looked longingly at the specialist who had run so gracefully up the sheer wall and sighed heavily.

OK, let's think of it as a parachute jump, just stepping into the hatch and not thinking about anything.

He stepped into the well. A moment later, his body signaled with horror that instead of falling honestly further down the manhole, he was falling against the inner wall, and his feet missed it, and he had every chance of flopping on his ass. Fortunately, at the last moment, just before his heel touched the metal floor, he was gently picked up by the shoulders and brought to his feet.

He turned around and was about to thank Taer but literally choked on his words...

Four pairs of beady little eyes glinted faintly red right beside his face. Alex recoiled involuntarily - the second squire of Lady Faith's without his ceremonial cloak made an even more intimidating impression.

The creature's head was about his chest, but the "elbows" of the upper pair of massive half-bent arms, which, like the rest of his body, were encased in a shiny dark blue shell, towered about half a meter above him. All four legs were also bent, holding the spindly body on the very floor. How much the squire would tower above his surroundings if he decided to straighten up was anyone's guess. He was wearing something more akin to an eight-fingered gauntlet or pouch. A garment of light and rather thick material resembling white foam covered his entire body from the base to the first joint on his legs and arms. It ended at the chest, exposing the shoulders and neck. There were holsters attached to all four legs in the "hip" area, from which the massive, intricately shaped handles protruded.

"Um... I'd like to see Lady Faith." Alex finally broke the uncomfortable pause with a resurgence.

"The captain is waiting, Your Excellency. Follow me."

The squire displayed a pleasant male baritone and moved forward down the corridor, leaving the already visibly tense Taer with the difficult choice of stepping aside and allowing Baroness Istar's squire to get between her and the "guarded object", or staying put and forcing the squire to "squeeze" past her. Choosing the second, the 'specialist' pressed herself against the wall and, placing her right hand on the hilt of her blaster, waited for the squire to squeeze past and followed him, managing to send Alex a very expressive 'I told you so' look.

After walking through the narrow intake corridor of the Gryzlik, they took the lift and entered the "habitable" area of the ship.

First came Lady Faith's squire, clawing quietly across the metal floor. Next was Taer, who kept her hand on the hilt of her blaster. Completing the walk was Alex. He tried his best not to twist his head or stare, reminding himself that he was Lord and had to keep his face.

There was plenty to watch: only five of the two dozen crewmembers encountered on the way were human; the rest displayed an incredible variety of shapes, colors, and coatings. Taer was indifferent to this celebration of life and its forms, but His Lordship had to make a considerable effort not to look like a child in a zoo.

They appeared to be passing through the local equivalent of a barracks or crew quarters; at least the entire central part of the room was occupied by three bunk beds, and along the wall were rows of tall and narrow lockers. The bulk of the barracks' inhabitants were found in the far corner in a small, tight group. From the familiar clatter of dice and loud shouts, the crew was engaged in a frenzy of gambling. As they approached, the game ceased in an instant, but the players did not disperse. Instead, they ate Lady Faith's squire with adoring smiles. He let out a grunt but didn't say anything, brushed past them, and the players immediately returned to their work. Alex could even see the dice - two pairs of multicolored octahedrons: some rather burly subject with yellow feline eyes and dark green skin had just thrown out black and red, which caused another burst of excited cheers.

So, to the cheers of the crew, they entered another small corridor that ended in a massive double door with a half-faded inscription: "Com. Gal."

Their attendant, deftly wielding his long claws on a four-toed hand, typed some combination on a small panel embedded in the wall beside the door, which opened with a low whirring sound.

"... and hint to those 'fireflies' that the Baroness is thinking of taking them next golden season." Lady Faith, sitting with her back to the door so that only part of her head, gleaming platinum hair, was visible from behind the high back of the semicircular armchair, came crashing in through the open door.

The Baroness's squire made an indefinite wave of the hand, which could be interpreted as "follow me", and in one long stride, he climbed a slight rise and stepped inside, stopping not far from the Baroness's chair. Alex and Taer followed his example and went in after him, also climbing the stairs in one step just in case.

The semi-circular room of the Com. Gal was small, the walls covered by impersonal light grey panels, some of which were slightly sooty around the perimeter as if something was burning inside. There were massive airlock doors in the center of the right and left walls, the low ceiling covered by the same panels interspersed with long flat lights. Along the opposite semi-circular wall ran rows of screens and massive consoles. Tall armchairs of milky-yellowish plastic stood beside them, empty except for two. In one, a gray-skinned creature lay sleeping with his head on the console, while in the other, the baroness's other squire was snuggled in his tail, his lower legs wrapped around his own.

Swirl, sticking out its long pink tongue with eagerness, was pawing at the buttons of the console with its upper paws, its middle paws clutching something like a small joystick. The screen in front of the whirlwind pulsed and glowed and exploded, apparently a game or training program of some sort.

"...Since they've decided it's perfectly safe to cheat and play 'captain' here, let them sit in the local 'university' - maybe they'll learn something." The baroness continued.

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Her chair was in the center of the room on a small platform, slightly elevated above the floor. In front of her was a pair of consoles in a semi-circle and a small, narrow table with two terminals, above which hung a holographic screen.

"But, Baron..." her interlocutor, a broad-shouldered man with grey eyes and short-cropped blond hair, tried to object. He wore a shabby and smudged orange waistcoat of thick foam-like material. His right shoulder and visible part of his arm were covered in chrome metal - either protection or a prosthetic. The tanned face, with its chopped features, hard mouth, and narrow lips, had a tattoo of a scarlet wavy line resembling a vertical squiggle. It began above his right eyebrow and went down to the middle of his cheekbone.

"That's it! Later!" Lady Faith interrupted him. "I have guests..."

She touched a few buttons on the remote control in front of the chair, and the holographic screen with the distressed big man disappeared. The Baroness twisted in her chair, turning it towards her guests. She was wearing a simple, slightly worn gray and blue jumpsuit carelessly unbuttoned to her chest. Beneath it were a thin, lusciously curvy white tank top and a massive gold chain with a medallion in the shape of a rising griffin. The jumpsuit was cinched by a broad black belt holding weapons, prominent among which were two large phasers holstered along the thigh and the delicate handles of swords. Lady Faith also wore the now familiar massive bracelets of gray metal and a similar hoop encircling her forehead. The Baroness glared at the squire who had brought her guests, and he stepped forward:

"Baroness, their nobility Lord Cassard and his companion come to you."

"Good to see you, Lord Cassard," Lady Faith smiled warmly as she rose from her chair and approached Alex. "I'm sorry I didn't meet you at the door, but there have been some slight, but..." she grimaced. "A personal problem that needs my attention."

Alex, not knowing how best to respond, just smiled understandingly and shook his hands - it's a known thing.

"By the way, Bar," the Baroness turned to her squire. "Fetch a couple of chairs for our guests. I may give the impression of an inhospitable hostess," she continued, waiting until Bar, quietly clawing his claws, exited the room. "It's all rather sudden, and I don't get many visitors." Lady Faith shook her hands in regret. "By the way, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I would like to discuss with you something related to my distant ancestors. Preferably in private." Alex added, casting a look of doubt on the subject, napping at the console.

"Strange," the Baroness frowned. "Last time we met, we had already discussed this in detail, and you, lord, learned everything you wanted to know about your ancestors."

"The thing is, after the poisoning, I've had certain memory lapses," Lord Cassard explained. "So once again, I would like to ask for your help in this matter."

"Oh," Lady Faith raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd lost your memory."

She looked around the room with an absent-minded glance, walked to the airlock door to the right of her chair, and typed the code on the panel that came up - the door hissed softly upwards, revealing the stairs:

"Let's go up to my place, it will be more comfortable."

The stairs were short and ended in a massive ceiling hatch, which, after a short manipulation by the Baroness, opened directly into space.

Above, just above their heads, flooding everything with red light, hung a huge purple nebula like a scarlet cloud, streaked with black threads and studded with glittering droplets of stars. To the left, the edge of Copeira could be seen. It was nighttime on the planet, and the dark disk was covered in a golden web of night lights. There was a low rustle from above, like a distant whisper or the sound of a gentle breeze in the leaves.

That must be the "whispering of the stars". Alex froze involuntarily for a few moments.

Lady Faith, not at all impressed with the view, waited until the hatch was fully open and then rose, making way for Taer and the slightly embarrassed Lord Cassard. Upstairs was a room that must have served as an observation gallery, not at all a direct exit into space, covered by a force field, as Alex had first thought. The light gray wall panels, which formed a perfect circle, ended at about waist height, passing into a continuous, seamless, transparent dome. The room was initially quite spacious and cluttered with things. The piles of large crates of dark green plastic were interspersed with long, flat cases of the same material, on top of which was a pile of clothes, from overalls to what looked suspiciously like an evening gown.

In the center of the room, a huge square bed hovered a palm away from the floor, the pale purple sheets and blanket were crumpled, and one of the long round pillows was lying beside it on the floor. A huge dark blue spacesuit stood beside the bed, and the door on the back, formed by the satchel that had been pushed aside, was wide open, giving a view of the white interior lining. Leaning against the suit was a monstrous something resembling a large-caliber double-barreled machine gun with an under-barrel automatic rocket launcher. A nearby crate was open, where the pointy noses of some projectiles, assembled in drums, gleamed. Just above the bed hung a small hologram in the shape of an elongated cloud, which was pierced by a complex system of glowing intersecting lines - a map or plan.

The Baroness walked over to a terminal nestled on one of the drawers and, switching off the hologram, sat down on the edge of the bed:

"Have a seat." She waved towards the crates. And seeing the doubts on the guests' faces, she added. "Courage, of all the things you can break, there's nothing here I'll regret."

Tossing aside some overalls of very thick fabric, Alex settled comfortably on the long case, and with one eye invited Taer to sit beside him, but she remained standing. She must be worried about her snow-white trousers.

"Give it to me straight, Lord Cassard," Lady Faith continued. "What's the matter, and what do you want? No wiggling - it only irritates me."

Alex nodded to Taer and she took a small suppressor from her trouser pocket and placed it on one of the nearby crates.

"I'd like to change the targets of my previous order," Alex began, ignoring the Baroness' condescending chuckle that appeared at the sight of the suppressor.

"What exactly does 'changing targets' mean?" Lady Faith, judging by her unhappy grimace, was very unhappy with the start of the conversation.

"It means I want to put my first order on hold and redirect it," Alex chose his words carefully, making sure it was clear on the one hand and not something to pick on on the other.

"What?" The Baroness burst out. "Lord Cassard, this is not a couture parlor. You do not order a suit here to decide in the process of sewing that you need "the same, but green"! Do you have any idea how much work has already been done and how many people have ALREADY been involved?" she raised her voice. "You can't go back on it!"

"I'm not suggesting a back on," he objected, "it's just that the situation has drastically changed, and in the new circumstances achieving the old goals is not only pointless but harmful. Your people should simply stop doing this case."

"Just stop?!" Lady Faith jumped up.

She froze, hovering menacingly over Alex, but after a moment or two, she let out a long sigh and sat back down, either because of the forward motion of Taer or because she was in control of herself.

"Yes," Alex replied firmly, "just stop and switch to another target."

"The first time we met," the Baroness began wearily, "you gave the impression of being a serious man, Lord Cassard. But now," she shook her head dejectedly, "you sound like a childish babble. Do you have any idea how such operations are prepared and how long it takes to introduce and prepare? People are already on the ground, and there is almost no communication with them."

"In my opinion, there's a pretty big difference between 'almost' and 'not'." Alex rested his fingers on his chin thoughtfully. "If there is a connection, then the men must be withdrawn. If it is within your power, Baroness Istar."

"And you want me to withdraw diligently deployed groups and reassign them to a new target?" Lady Faith squinted.

"Yes," Alex nodded, but seeing that the Baroness was about to unleash another scathing reprimand, he raised his hands conciliatorily, "but I'm not suggesting that your people do the job twice for the same money. These are two different contracts. Yes, the first one had to be canceled because of the changed situation, but you still have an advance, and nobody demands it back. Your people just need to stop doing this case. I think it's a great deal," Alex smiled, "you got an advance, and yet you don't have to do anything. And the second contract is a completely separate case with a separate payment."

"Withdrawal of embedded groups is an additional cost..." the Baroness brooded.

"Which is what the advance is intended to cover," Alex countered. "I am more than sure that a professional like you have factored these risks into the amount of the advance."

"All right," she smirked, "let's say I can call off the teams. And then what? Who do you have to kill this time?"

At the word "kill," Taer made a choking sound, and Alex crinkled involuntarily-his desire not to leave direct evidence was clearly not supported by the Baroness. He remembered that he had not explained to Taer the purpose of his meeting with Lady Fayth and was unsure of her reaction. He could not think of a better way to put it.

"Well, don't be embarrassed, like a Synths preacher in a dockside pub," smiled the Baroness, seeing the sour expression on Alex's face, "I prefer to call things by their proper names."

"I'm more concerned about how accusatory the possible record will look," he admitted. "And the words themselves don't embarrass me."

"If I wanted to set you up, I would have enough evidence without those words. If your surroundings are not reliable, then such caution will not save you either."

Alex shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent look: "Your surroundings can be unreliable."

"If my surroundings were unreliable," Lady Faith grinned, "I'd have been dead long ago. So tell me directly who you need to kill and on what terms."

"Well, okay," Alex sighed, "I need your men to kill two people. Lord of the House of Melato Asparo Velasque and Professor Fayyor Takkar of the University of Tallana. I offer two million danarii for each. Two million in advance, accordingly, and two more after execution.".

"Is that so?" The baroness arched an eyebrow. "Are you already determining my rates, Lord Casssard?"

"I'm not encroaching on your privileges, Lady Faith, it's just the most I'm willing to pay."

Alex unzipped the briefcase and, opening the first compartment, spilled the contents next to him. Bundles of dark, gold-embossed cards, intertwined with a blue ribbon in the middle, spilled onto the case with a quiet clatter, forming a small pile.

"To be honest, I think I'm overpaying," Alex looked at the pile of danarii with a wry expression, "but I've always found professionalism to be worth paying a little extra for it."

Either the compliment or the two million denarii had a positive effect on the baroness:

"What other information do you have about this lord and the professor?" The baroness smiled.

"Unfortunately, practically none," Alex sighed with genuine sadness.

"Then I won't be able to give a definite answer right now," Lady Faith informed him as she stood up.

She walked over to the terminal and touched one of the buttons:

"Bar, Urick, Tlan, come up to me."

She turned to her guests again:

"I need to get some advice, and then I'll tell you if I can help you or not. I don't think it will take more than half an hour - if you're curious, you can take a look around the ship. Bar will show you around. Or you can wait on your yacht."

"I'd love to see the ship," Alex hastened to assure me.

He was curious, of course, but mostly he wanted to buy time. Throughout his conversation with Lady Faith, his "specialist" stood there as a statue, her eyes dilated with horror. To be alone with her on the yacht was to start explaining things, and he had not yet figured out how best to do that.

Damn! I should have talked to her beforehand!

Meanwhile, the hatch to the Baroness's room swung open, letting in a picturesque trio, led by Lady Faith's squire. Following Bar, a pitch-black man in a stained orange overall with straps and massive boots like ski boots came up. He was short and rather thin. There was a large pocket in the chest area of his overalls, where the top of the infobox was sticking out.

The last man to come in, probably for contrast, was a tall man with unnaturally white skin, charcoal-black hair and almond-shaped black eyes. He wore a deep blue uniform with a stand-up collar embellished with abundant gold embroidery, beginning at the neck and reaching down to the epaulettes. The same color trousers with gold edging were tucked into low black boots, polished to a mirror shine. Two eight-pointed stars, one with a bright red stone in the center and the other with a blue one, and an oddly shaped cross gleamed with metal on the left side of his uniform. A white-gloved left hand rested on a hilt with a curved handguard to which a scarlet ribbon was tied, a long lacquered wood scabbard bound by metal rings. A face with perfect features radiated an inhuman calm and majesty.

A strange personality. Not a man, but a statue. Somehow he doesn't fit in with the general relaxed-spitting atmosphere on the ship.

Lady Faith moved to meet those who entered.

"Bar, show our guests around the ship," she said, pointing to Alex and Taer.

"What do you want to see, Your Excellency?" The squire inquired as they descended into the Com. Gal.

"Um... I don't know," Alex stretched out, more concerned with his upcoming conversation with Taer and what decision the Baroness would make.

He was hardly worried about Lady Faith, though - judging by the twinkle in her eyes, she genuinely loved money. So Alex had tactfully left the advance in her room just in case, reckoning that the sight of the slide of denarii would encourage the conferees to make the right decision. There was the risk that Lady Faith might decide that simply taking the money and throwing Lord Cassard out was more profitable. But that was a risk Alex had decided on beforehand - otherwise, he might not go.

"I think you'll be pleased to see our Sanctuary of Ryan," Bar suggested and moved forward, tapping softly on the metal with his claws.

After about five minutes of walking through endless narrow passages, locks, and staircases, they found themselves in a small room strikingly similar to an ordinary shooting gallery. In a corner to the right of the entrance was a small pedestal made of dark stone, similar to an altar, and decorated with scarlet ribbons. On its top was a pattern in the shape of an eight-pointed star, with a small flame fluttering in its center. On the wall above the altar, just above human height, was a mask of dark material. Behind it - either a fire too or some kind of fluctuating light source - it was as if a bright orange flame was beating in the slits in place of the eyes. The mask was tilted slightly downwards so that it felt as if it was looking down from above. The overall impression was rather eerie.

"We've got a shooting range and a gun room," Bar explained. "We wanted to put it in the wardroom, like on the flagship, but then we thought it might be more appropriate near the guns." He stepped up to the altar and gently tidied up a couple of tangled ribbons. "This is a true live fire, we had to rework the ventilation system on purpose, and behind the face of the Incarnate Flame, we have a capsule with a petal from the Fire Throne.

"That's nice," Alex smiled as if on duty and turned to the "specialist," who hadn't said a word the whole time. "What do you think, Taer?"

"Very nice indeed," she nodded with an equally officious smile. "I didn't know Lady Faith was a Secondarist."

"No, Baroness is not a believer," the squire sighed visibly. "But I think when Ir'Ryan incarnates, the flames will accept a fighter like her."

"Lady Faith is certainly over three thousand years old," Taer smiled after all. "But catching the incarnation of the flames in person probably isn't even possible for her."

"The Sisters say the incarnation is near," the squire objected. "And there has been a war recently."

"The True Fire Church has been saying 'incarnation is near' for the last four thousand years," the 'specialist' shrugged. "But it's still not incarnating. And there have been wars before."

"Were that wars?" He waved his paw. "The War of the Guilds, yes, it spread all over the Empire. And then..." He paused for a moment. "The Baroness is summoning us," he announced and moved toward the exit.

"How did you find out?" Alex, who had been here for more than two weeks for the first time in more than two weeks to talk to an "alien"... and THAT kind of alien.

"I have an implanted com. It's not easy to use," he showed Alex a clawed paw that looked more like a double claw.

After escorting them upstairs to the Baroness's room, Bar stayed downstairs. Lady Faith alone was waiting for them upstairs, while the black guy with the infoblock and the imposing 'general' was already gone.

"You didn't give me a deadline," the Baroness immediately took the bull by the horns as soon as the entrance hatch closed behind Alex and Taer.

"As soon as possible. The sooner you get them, the better."

"Okay," she smiled as she approached Alex. "But since you demand speed, there won't be any time to infiltrate, and there won't be any way to make it look like an accident."

"As you wish," he shrugged. "As long as there's no evidence linking their deaths to me."

"Well, in that case, I can help you, Lord Cassard," Lady Faith held out her hand.

Alex cast a glance at the case where the money was lying - it was gone:

"I'm glad we were able to come to an understanding on these matters!" he smiled back, shaking her hand. "I can only hope for your word and professionalism."

Ice glinted in the Baroness's eyes, and the handshake turned steely:

"Unlike the current House of Fyron, not only do I remember why the Baron title used to be above all others, but I am proud of it. The Baron's word is unbreakable!"

"Her grip feels like it's been squeezed," Alex complained, kneading his arm as he and Taer walked down the clear tube of the intake port back to the Istal.

"Her Ladyship Baroness Istar has had both her arms replaced with biomechanical prostheses," Taer said in an icy tone.

"Made it to yourself to hit harder?"

"No, there was a burst heat pipe. The jet should have hit Baron Lormire Cassard. Lady Faith pushed him away and lost both her arms in the process. The level of medicine in her time did not allow her hands to be restored after such a severe injury."

"Oh," Alex said with a smirk. "And how do you know that?"

Taer was embarrassed for a moment and then answered in a less impassive tone:

"I saw it in the Holo series Eternal Love."

"Ah... I see. Can't the hands be restored now too?"

"It's possible. But Lady Faith said no."

The captain and two of the crew were waiting outside the yacht's airlock door, as usual.

As soon as Alex let them go, Taer came at him, throwing lightning bolts from her eyes but with a nonchalant mask on her face:

"Your Lordship, don't you think you've been a little rash? The attack on the lords of the Empire is being investigated by the Imperial High Tribunal!" she hissed.

She has a talent, Alex admired, for saying the words 'Your Lordship' in a way that makes it sound like 'you vile little shit!

"It seems," he agreed, "what do you propose to do?"

Taer opened her mouth, but Alex didn't let her say a word:

"Calling Countess Durlurl for help? So she's been incapacitated by the SS for an unknown period of time. Now what, sit around and act like a target at a shooting range? No, that tactic almost got Dudo killed. I'd hate to think a man was on the verge of death because of me. Who's next? You? Me? Someone else?"

Alex was silent, but when Taer tried to object again, he made one last "killing" argument that he had been thinking about the whole time they had been looking around the ship:

"They started first."

* * *