Chapter 7

* * *

"Damn students," Krain Werk cursed softly and prepared to shoot, showing Marek to join him. Actually, according to the original plan, which he, Krain, had developed and personally, three times, presented to the "resistance fighters", Rodik and Milun were to shoot, for which they were given a heavy stun gun, the only one available to the group.

But the duelists were already moving away, and no one was shooting. And he had to make adjustments on the fly.

Or else they'll put holes in our dearest lord.

He lowered the window of the aerocar a little and stuck the barrel through the gap. Marek, who was sitting behind him, did the same. The smell of wet leaves and the quiet rustle of the waves on the waterfront wafted into the cabin.

"Fire!" Krain exhaled briefly and pressed the trigger.

A loud throbbing gun howl reverberated along the embankment, gradually drowned out by the dense foliage of the densely planted trees.

The two ribbons of purple lights buzzed like angry wasps and swept toward the "offended" and smashed into him in a series of flashes. The duelist, cramped, collapsed on the sidewalk, frozen in an absurd pose before he could turn around.

The standard imperial R-55 in non-lethal mode pissed off the target, stinging it painfully rather than paralyzing it. But at thirty paces, in two barrels, in a burst...

Krain was about to turn his fire on the rest of the "offended" when a heavy stun gun struck from the darkness of a side street - a broad blue beam smeared across Lord Cassard and started searching for the rest of the dueling party. The last to fall was the lord's second, but he, too, didn't seem to have time to comprehend.

Krain gave the go-ahead for phase two and barked into his communicator:

"Why did it take so long to fire? Why did you change your position? What kind of amateurism is this?!"

The doors slammed shut: the two jumped out of the car and ran toward the still bodies of the dueling men, whose figures still had sparks of residual discharges flickering across them. Nick and Yuri had to make sure Lord Cassard was all right and fake a robbery.

"Krain, we didn't have time to open fire, we had a "sportsman" here, and we had to calm him down." Rodik, as an old underground fighter, always spoke by his first name. There was tension in his voice, and he always hissed harder than usual with excitement.

"What the fuck is a sports..." Kraine started to get angry but didn't get a chance to finish.

Three gray figures jumped out of a side street, where a heavy paralyzer had recently fired and rushed toward the duelists' bodies as well. Without thinking who it could be, Krain, on pure reflexes, covered one of the figures with the red dot of his sight and opened fire. Flashes of hits flashed, turning into short bolts of lightning streaming down his legs and reaching for the ground. And that was it! The target wasn't falling!

The runners reacted almost instantly: they rushed to the parked cars and, taking cover behind them, fired back several rounds, obviously blindly. A few of the charges hit the side of the aerocar and spread out with crackling aftershocks with no effect.

Once again, a heavy stunner struck Nick and Yuri, who fell next to the duelists' bodies.

Okay, time to switch to normal fire mode. We're in an aerocar. They have power suits. So no one's gonna get anything with the stun guns anymore.

His feverish thoughts were interrupted by Rodik's hissing voice in his earpiece:

"Krain, I see one of them, I can try to nail him."

"They have power-fiber suits..."

"Not from a stun gun, from a C-80, which was inherited from a sportsman," added the gnarm.

"All right, keep them in sight, but don't shoot yet. Let's try to have an amicable breakup. And tell me, who's the sportsman?"

Krain, who always thought very quickly when it came to shooting, thought that since the unknowns were also firing the stun guns, their interests might temporarily overlap. And he didn't want to have to go to the point of firing live ammunition.

The unknowns seemed to think the same because it had not taken twenty seconds for Krain to figure out that while taking his position, Rodik had discovered some dopey guy nestled comfortably at the hearing window with a Sport-80, and he had knocked that "sportsman " out just in case.

From the dark depths of the side street came a scream:

"Hey, passersby, shall we talk?"

"We can talk," Krain shouted back.

Just in case, he switched the rifle to combat mode and changed the charger. Opening the window of the aerocar a little wider and sliding under the door, he shouted:

"Who the hell are you?"

"We're robbers," they said after a moment's confusion. "And who are you?"

"And we're robbers, too," Krain shouted, glaring at Marik, who was obviously about to yell something stupid like "resistance fighters".

"Well, then, maybe we should discuss everything in our own way as the robbers? One on one, without shooting," it came from the darkness.

Krain thought for a moment and, having made a decision, began to instruct his bewildered troops:

"So, I'm going to negotiate now, you keep me safe from here, and if the shooting starts, you fly across the embankment, covering the body of Lord Cassard and the guys. Marik opens a barrage of live fire in the enemy's direction, and you, Juno," he clapped the pilot on the shoulder. "You drop the stick and get the lads and Lord Cassard into the aerocar. Rodick and Miloon, you..."

"I hear you, Krain, we'll cover you with fire, and then, when we're sure you're gone, we'll retreat to the original plan," the gnarm hissed, not letting the commander finish his sentence.

"All right, is it clear?"

Marik and Juno nodded in response.

I hope it doesn't come to gunfire, Krain thought as he got out of the aerocar.

He was not sure that the "resistance fighters" "understood everything".

He stepped out onto the platform where the duelists lay and, walking closer to Lord Cassard and the lads, stopped. The air smelled strongly of ozone and crackled with static after the active shooting.

It was unpleasant to stand in the place where the shots had recently been fired. Krain seemed to feel the sight lines crawling over him, his hands trembling slightly. He gripped the rifle tighter to quell the trembling.

Footsteps were heard from a side street, and Krain saw his vis-a-vis. He had never seen such strange "robbers", even on Zavax.

He's a robber, just like you! He doesn't look like a guardsman or a retainer, either; they're not so unceremonious on Copeira.

The man who stepped out was tall and dressed in a gray, blown-foam antiblaster jumpsuit over which he wore a standard imperial armor, though repainted gray, and a soft helmet of the same antiblaster foam on his head. A long-barreled assault rifle dangled loosely from his chest. He wore no insignia. He smirked and lifted the transparent visor of his helmet:

"Well, hello, brother in the profession!"

"And you don't cough!" Krain sniggered. "What are you doing?"

"Well, we wanted to rob the noble gentlemen, rob them of their underwear, and then call the police, so they wouldn't catch a cold, but there was a hitch," the big man said, friendly as if he was an old acquaintance.

Krain smirked - they were going to do the same thing.

After a brief negotiation, joined by Marik and Juno, who came out without orders (Resistance, your discipline sucks. Students, Krain mocked internally, but said nothing aloud), the "robbers" agreed that both sides would inspect the duelists, each taking half the loot, then leaving observers who would confirm the picking of the noble gentlemen by the police.

"But, bro, if you're going to rob them again, you'd better get in touch with me, so there's no trouble," the big man said, handing Krain a communicator.

He thought about it and took it. I'll have to check this comm later for planting. The big man smiled:

"Cheers then, brother. Let's go!" he said into the receiver of his comm, and the greys disappeared into the depths of the street.

Where they had left their observers, the big man did not say, and Krain was modestly silent about Rodik and the "sportsman". Half a minute later, he saw the Aegis taking off from behind the neighboring buildings with its lights off.

Perhaps not a bomb then, Krain decided, looking at the communicator. He tossed it in his hand and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

The Aegis, otherwise known as a 'housewife battleship', was technically a yacht for business travel. In practice, however, she passed on the thin line of acceptable field and armament capacity for civilian vessels. And it easily crossed that line thanks to a second reactor installed for "emergencies". She had enough firepower to take out a light corvette and half the firepower to blow this place to smithereens. Rich kids. We wish we had!

And said aloud: "All right, let's move out! Rodik and Miloon, you'll supervise the picking up of the lord by the police. Meet me at the agreed place."

Seven minutes later, when the resistance fighters' aerocar was a good thirty komers away from the scene of the "robbery" a call came in from Rodik, who confirmed the unconscious Lord Cassard and the other duelists had been picked up by the police.

Lounging in the back of the aerocar, Krain thought about what had happened and planned what he was going to say at the upcoming debriefing. And that there would be a debriefing, he had no doubt. When word got out that Lord Cassard was having a duel - the whole 'resistance' network in the Tail sector rose to its ears. Network is a big word. But, anyway, the problem was looming larger than ever.

The Anti-Imperial Alliance, or as it was called, the Resistance, was not particularly popular in the Tail sector. To put it bluntly, no popularity at all. And the remoteness of the sector from the main Alliance bases created a dual situation: on the one hand, the "authorized resistance representatives" had a hard time, as they had no money, people, or support, and on the other, the local representation of the Imperial Security Service was a pale imitation of the "searchers" from the central sectors. In other words: everything had to be created from scratch with their own hands, but at the same time, there was no one to interfere with the process. The staffing issue, despite Krain's active resistance, was resolved at the expense of Riena and Tallana Universities - there were enough students with dopey minds and romantic ideas.

There were huge problems with logistics. Shipping from the main bases was a gigantic risk, as the cargo had to be dragged halfway across the Empire, and the inspection service was thoroughly and unfamiliar. One could have bought locally: after all, smugglers are everywhere, especially at the intersection of major hyperlines, but there was trivially no money. There was a similar problem with bases and safe houses. A sympathetic population willing to shelter "resistance fighters" was simply not available.

So a young, romantic clerk, who shared the ideas of the "anti-imperial alliance" and served in Lord Cassard's secretariat, proved to be a lifesaver for the "empowered representatives". The clerk in his youth was not a bread-and-butter business - Lord Cassard's real estate. It could not be sold without his lordship's command, nor could it be rented. He could, of course, rent it out secretly, but that would be a pittance for which it was not worth the trouble. All in all, what had been rubbish in the eyes of the Secretaries turned out to be a treasure to be resisted. Lord Cassard had flats, studios, houses, and castles on all the key planets of the sector in incredible abundance. And, of course, most of them he had never even been to. And then there were the various "outbuildings": warehouses, garages, generating stations, finally.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

This splendor was used by the Resistance Network of the Tail Sector as bases, hiding places, safe houses, and meeting places.

And all that happiness almost goes deep in zwiggolot ass!

The death of Lord Cassard could have caused an automatic end to the free-riding. So at an emergency meeting of the leadership cell, it was decided to intervene.

So they intervened, at least it didn't come to gunfire.

Fortunately, the rebels had their own men among the Blades of Honour, who had a close relationship with Lord Lister. It was through them that they learned of the place and time of the duel.

I wonder how the 'greys' found out?

These 'greys' really bothered Krain. They just pissed him off with their absurdity!

Let's say they didn't want Lord Cassard dead for their reasons either, why not. It would take five men... well, okay, eight. And a heavy stun gun... A couple, maybe. There were at least fifteen of them! In assault armor with heavy weaponry. And the Aegis. The 'Greys' were clearly expecting much more serious trouble and were preparing for a serious mess. So serious, they weren't even ashamed to bring in the Aegis!

Krain sighed and drew a disappointing conclusion:

They clearly know something. But that doesn't explain why they didn't spread us thin along the street. And then there was the sportsman.

The Sport-80 rifle from Arlit-Arsenal was technically a sports rifle. But its excellent accuracy and ability to be stowed in a small case made it very popular among professionals of a certain kind. So much so that it was banned from sale after a while. So the 'sportsman' was not clearly a random passer-by.

The only question is who put him there. Gentlemen duelists, "Greys", or some third party wanting certainty in the outcome of the duel?

"I don't like it," he complained aloud, albeit quietly, and stepped out of the aerocar which had landed.

At the debriefing, he did not share his thoughts with "Lady Chief Representative Liora", only dryly, the military-style recounting of events. Rodik, who arrived a little later, completed the picture from his point of view:

"We were lucky, I spotted the "sportsman" by accident."

Krain could only shrug - yes, they were lucky:

"The operation was hasty but successful - lord alive, students intact, some profit to be made." He nodded at the loot piled on the table: jewelry, credits, a five thousand danari chip, a communicator, and three swords.

"We've descended to robbery, like the Imperials," Liora commented squeamishly, staring at the loot. "Why did you bring that filthy thing with you? What if it's a bug?" she hissed, jabbing her finger at the communicator.

"There's nothing there - we've checked it thoroughly and even dismantled it. Have we been sent here to make contacts?" Krain asked a rhetorical question. "Here's your contact," he nodded at his communicator. "Keep in touch as long as you like," he stood up to leave."

"All right, I'll deal with it," she picked up the com, wary and a little disgusted, like some nasty, biting insect. And then she was reminded of her idea:

"What about the message?"

"Delivered," Krain nodded, waving two fingers carelessly from his temple as he left.

* * *

Alex woke up to a strong but pleasant menthol-like smell. Everything else was disgusting: his head ached, sounds echoed painfully, and painful spasms rolled through his body.

"How are you feeling, Your Lordship?" He asked, with genuine sympathy, about fifty years of age, a round-faced man in a dark blue tunic with a gold floral pattern on the shoulders. He held a small white spongy ball in front of Alex's nose. A strong menthol-like smell emanated from this particular ball.

"Thank you, I feel disgusting," Alex said, barely moving his tongue, and tried to stand up.

It turned out badly: the numb limbs were like cotton wool and did not obey their owner well.

He looked around: a small room, dim light from two wall lamps, a massive table with a tabletop covered in blue cloth, and a couple of armchairs, one of which was Alex lying in. Besides Alex and the man in the blue tunic, there was a woman in a pale green dressing gown, probably a medic, and Lord Brennor Lister. Brennor's appearance was not good: half-dressed and disheveled, with a pained expression on his face, he was lying in a chair opposite, and the resemblance to the battered school nerd was even more striking.

Judging by the way I feel like shit, I don't look any better, Alex realized and decided to clarify the situation:

"What happened? Who won..."

The question was cut short by an instantly perturbed "nerd":

"We were attacked by robbers as we strolled along the promenade." Brenor put special emphasis on "strolled" and pointed his eyes at the man in blue: Not now, later. "And there were no winners in our wager, a draw."

"Robbers?" My head was buzzing, and my thoughts could barely wiggle. And what was the reason for the secrecy Alex did not understand? But decided to consider Lord Lister's hint just in case.

"Yes, Your Lordship. They are incredibly brazen. During your walk, they fired on you with a stun gun and blasters in non-lethal mode, stealing money and valuables. They fled with the stolen goods, leaving you unconscious on the waterfront. Where a police patrol picked you up. The best forces of my department have been sent to investigate, and I think the scoundrels will soon be brought to justice," the round-faced man in the blue tunic with gold embroidery hastened to answer the question.

Seeing Alex's questioning look, he introduced himself:

"The Head of the Fourteenth Metropolitan Police Department of Copeira, Alozar Rimer," with these words, the "head" bowed slightly.

"Mr. Rimer, I would like to discuss something with Lord Cassard in private. Where might we do so?" Brenor asked, looking innocently at the head of the department.

"Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen," Alozar said with a welcoming gesture around his office. "We have so much to do anyway. Shall I have them bring you some tea or teymar?"

After receiving a negative answer, the "head" and the woman in the dressing gown, who never said a word, diplomatically left and shut the door.

"Look, Lord Cassard, this is not a matter of importance, but we'd both be better off not mentioning the word 'duel' in front of the police," Lord Lister said as he waited for the footsteps outside the door to subside.

Alex shrugged in response, his head was splitting, and he didn't really care - not mention it, he didn't mention it. He fumbled in his pocket for the jar of Fenote he'd been carrying around since his lunch with the Baroness. He poured three blue sparkling capsules into the palm of his hand and popped them into his mouth. Soon his mind became clearer. Sounds around him were no longer painful, and his thoughts began to run faster.

Brenor continued to say something about how, of course, the police don't usually interfere when it comes to noble honor, but it's not worth involving the police in such delicate matters as duels... But Lord Cassard's mind was already at full capacity, and he was interested in more specific questions:

"Where have my opponent and his entourage gone?"

"Count Areno was hit harder than we were. According to the police, he was shot with a blaster in non-lethal mode. So he was all bruised and lightly burned, and his face was swollen... Anyway, they took him to the hospital, and his friends went with him," Lord Lister reported. "I think he'll be in bed for a couple of days."

Count Areno must be the aggressive blond. I hope he's got a good hit! Alex thought with mild gloating.

"Look, Lord Cassard," the nerd began hesitantly. "Please answer me honestly. I won't give you away. They were not your men?" he asked with the face of a teenager buying condoms for the first time in his life in a drugstore.

"Who?" There was a genuine surprise on Lord Cassard's face.

"The robbers who attacked us during the duel."

"No, not mine."

Hearing this, the "nerd" was visibly upset. He leaned back in his chair, rolled his eyes, and sighed sadly:

"Forgive me, Lord Cassard, for questioning your honesty, but you have no idea how badly I feel about the sword. I had hoped it was your men, and you had the sword now."

Lord Cassard responded by shaking his hands in regret, "if only I had one..." The nerd sighed heavily again, but then he perked up and added with much more determination:

"If you consider yourself offended, I am ready to give you satisfaction at your convenience!"

Alex waved his hands, assuring him that he didn't feel insulted in the slightest, and given his reputation, it would be strange if no one thought anything of the sort.

To hell with these duels! There's not another one to go, the first one I've had to recover from!

Lord Lister wanted to say something in reply, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Lord Cassard's security specialist has arrived, and Lord Lister's flyer has also arrived," the department head, Alozar Riemer, appeared in the open doorway, and Taer, towered behind him, radiating irritation and anger.

"Are you all right, my lord?" she inquired.

"It's just a bit of robbery, no big deal," Alex said tiredly as he rose from his chair.

Taer insisted on an immediate flight to the castle; Alex saw no reason for her to object. After saying goodbye to the cordial Head of the Police Department and receiving his assurances that the criminals would be located soon, Alex and Lord Lister, accompanied by Taer, headed for the flyer site.

There were two elegant cars on the platform, one silver-white with the familiar red griffin, the other dark gold with a scarlet wyvern spreading its wings against a golden sun.

Already approaching the flyers, Lord Lister suddenly stopped and held out his hand for a handshake:

"You know, Lord Cassard, I was wrong about you! You didn't refuse a duel, and you behaved with dignity. You are a man of honor!" With those words, Lord Lister shook Alex's hand and got into the flyer, nodding to the driver.

The vehicle took off gently and, quickly picking up speed, disappeared into the dark sky, leaving a bewildered Lord Cassard behind.

So I could refuse!?

The thought that all the fuss and nerves involved in the duel had been for nothing just infuriated Alex. He flopped down in the back seat of the flyer. Taer, who was sitting in the pilot's seat, looked over her shoulder and hissed angrily:

"Why, for the Great Shadow, did you go to the boardwalk?!"

Alex realized that he was about to be accused of stupidity, he himself now realized that the duel was stupidity.

But damn, I didn't know!

He sighed heavily:

"I had a duel there."

"What?! A duel?!" The girl jerked, reflexively trying to turn around, which caused the flyer to shake.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, then pressed some button on the dashboard and gave a curt command:

"To the Blue Flame Castle!" And after the electronic "Execution" she turned to Alex:

"You're out of your mind! You always had the good sense to refuse before. Or was it you who called?"

"No, I didn't. And I didn't know you could say no! I didn't have anyone to ask, you know," Alex snapped back, folding his arms across his chest and staring out the window defiantly.

"I hope at least the police don't know about the duel?" The girl asked venomously.

Alex, not looking away from the window, muttered back that no, they didn't know and that it wasn't a big problem anyway.

Taer, cursing quietly, returned to the control of the flyer. The car was going low, so the city spread out below was perfectly visible. The large domes of buildings, topped by tall spires, were illuminated by hidden searchlights. The soft yellow light of the street lights, muffled by the dense foliage of the trees, reflected in the numerous canals, whose dark mirrored threads wove into an intricate pattern. Alex spent some time just admiring the view that opened up, but a freshly acquired worm of paranoia made itself felt:

I didn't know it was possible to refuse a duel, but those who challenged me couldn't know that I didn't know about it. So they could have been sure I would refuse and still - a duel.

Alex drummed his fingers on the armrest thoughtfully the picture was clearly not forming. And then a thought occurred to him that almost made him jump:

It's simple, lad. It wasn't a duel. They were going to quickly and quietly stab you with a sword simulating a duel, but Lord Lister showed up at the wrong time and ruined it for them! And on the boardwalk, they were already interrupted by robbers!

The robbers showed up too just in time to be an accident, but who might have needed to secretly rescue him Alex had no idea:

Or not to rescue... Maybe they didn't need your corpse, but your temporary unconsciousness to do something?

Sensing that his paranoia, spurred on by his imagination, was about to run wild, Alex tried to calm down and think in order:

If it was a failed assassination attempt after all, who would want it?

Alex tried to remember the name of the blond that challenged him to a duel, and his memory, invigorated by the "fenote," immediately gave him the answer:

Count Areno

"Taer, tell me, does the name Count Areno say anything to you?"

She looked up and wrinkled her nose thoughtfully for a while, trying to remember:

"Unfortunately, I don't know who that is, my lord," the word "my lord" was pronounced in a very sarcastic way. She seemed to be sulking again.

"And Lord Brenor Lister?" Alex decided to make inquiries about everyone involved in the duel.

"Lord Brenor, despite his age, is the best blade of House Bentar, a brether, and a very dangerous man," the girl jumped at the unexpected guess:

"So he was the one in the department?" She had a mixture of surprise and admiration on her face. "And you had a duel with him? And did you win? Or was it a draw?" As a surprise, Taer forgot that she'd sulked and forgot the titles.

Alex enjoyed the effect for a while, fighting the urge to lie, but in the end, honesty won out:

"No, I had a duel with Count Areno, and Lord Lister was my second."

The glint in Taer's eyes faded slightly, but the fact that Lord Lister had agreed to be Cassard's second didn't seem to surprise her any less.

"Why is Lord Lister a dangerous man?" Alex continued to wonder.

"I have heard of nearly a hundred duels with Brenor in two years, and he is, as you have seen, quite alive and not particularly damaged. He's the reason the guardsmen of House Bentar are so brazen on Copeira. But," Taer smiled wickedly, "it won't be for long."

"Why not for long?" Alex asked, expecting to hear a plan of revenge developed by the guardsmen of House Fyron or at least a hint of the existence of such a plan.

House Bentar does not seek conflict. They have always tried to be neutral, so Lord Lister's behavior creates political problems. In general, the parents have promoted Brenor to a position at court, where he will be sent at the end of the "golden season" so as not to muddy the waters.

Alex mentally sympathized with the "nerd" and stared out the window again, wondering who might have wanted to kill him. Count Areno was clearly someone's executor, but whose? Someone was persistently trying to send Lord Cassard to the afterlife. First, a poisoning that Alex had forgotten all about, and now a fake duel.

Dedicated assholes! Next time they won't make a fuss and will plant a mine.

The thought that someone really wanted to kill him made him a little uncomfortable, so he stayed quiet the rest of the way, trying to think of something.

Back at the castle, Alex sluggishly dismissed Barra's offers for dinner and staggered straight to the bedroom. He sat down on the bed and stripped off his clothes, going over the list of people potentially interested in his death in his mind. The list was long.

Then a folded piece of paper that had fallen out of a discarded boot caught his attention. Alex got up from the bed and picked it up. It looked more like plastic to the touch - smooth and slippery. He sat back down on the bed, unfolded the piece of paper, and began to read the text, written out in perfect handwriting:

Dear Lord Cassard, we want to apologize to you for having to paralyze you, but it was the only way to save your life. We are interested in cooperating with you, and you may find our help useful. If you are interested, come to the Unification celebration wearing a red neck scarf and we will contact you.

Alex leaned back on the bed and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. The heroic young man was still calling for an attack, and Alex was beginning to understand why there was no one near the young man.

Probably went alone and died heroically, for which he ascended to the ceiling.

The "rescue robbers" who showed up did not bring clarity; on the contrary, everything became even more unclear.

Yeah, and everyone wants something from me. At least this one needs me alive.

With that thought in mind, Lord Cassard went to shower and sleep, also flushing the torn message down the toilet.

* * *