Chapter 9

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The next day, she struggled to wake up to the beep of the biomonitor.

Lord Cassard is awake, so it's time for me. Why can't the bastard sleep this early?

Taer staggered into the shower, and as she walked past the mirror, she was horrified at how she looked: she looked as if someone had chewed her.

What shadows I slept in my clothes!

Quickly refreshed by an icy shower, she began to get dressed. Putting on her communicator, she glanced at the time. It was the middle of the day, and the lord was awake as usual.

I, on the other hand, am a bit sleepy.

And she had planned to get up early so that she could practice.

Yeah, I guess I got a little overexcited last night. She usually got five hours of sleep in abundance.

She stepped out into the corridor, and less than a minute later, Lord Cassard appeared. He was frowning and thoughtful:

"Tell me, Taer, do you know anything about the outcome of the investigation into the first attempt on my life? Well, that was when I was poisoned."

"No, the investigation is being conducted by the Imperial Security Service and House Fyron Intelligence. I'm afraid my personal request will not be enough to obtain the information. Your signature is required." In fact, she might well have inquired informally, such as from Countess Durlurl, but the poisoning just slipped her mind.

"Make a request, then, and I'll sign it. And also... tell me, if you were to kill a high-ranking target - you know, some lord - would the bodyguards help him?"

"Depends on what resources I have: if I only have a hand blaster, then bodyguards can help the target a lot," she looked expressively at Alex. "Why do you ask?"

The lord sighed heavily and darkened even more:

"You know, I've been thinking. And I realized it wasn't a duel. It was an assassination attempt. Someone tried to poison me, and now this. If they keep trying, they're probably going to bring in the professionals now."

Taer, who was somewhat shocked by the duel presented in a new light, opened her room door:

"Come on, let's go to my place, and you can tell me your thoughts in detail. And why you thought it was an assassination attempt."

"Er... come on," he walked into her chambers and looked around. "You've got a cozy place, not like mine. And why your place?" Alex smiled, and his face was no longer grim. "Not my room or the study, for instance?"

"Because the suppressor in my bedroom is much better!" Taer replied in complete seriousness as she closed the door behind her.

Pointing to the lord's chair by the window, Taer waited until his back was turned to her and, with a couple of quick kicks, threw the uniform and towel lying on the floor under the bed, sincerely hoping Alex hadn't noticed them in time. Hiding the signs of her hasty awakening, she walked over to the desk and turned on the suppressor. A yellow light flickered on top of the pyramid, and the room filled with a quiet hum.

"There, now we can talk," the girl turned the armchair by the table towards the lord and settled comfortably in it. "What makes you think it was an assassination attempt?"

Alex sighed heavily, and ran his palm over his face, pressing his eyes lightly, massaging them. Looks like he didn't sleep well. And began to explain his reasoning.

Fifteen minutes later, both sat in thoughtful silence, the silence broken only by the bass hum of the suppressor. The Lord waited for a response, and Taer's mind was in a terrible mess:

From what the lord had said, even the last idiot would understand that the whole duel thing was pure spectacle. Except who would want it?

It could well have been an assassination attempt foiled by the appearance of Lord Lister, or it could have been a production by the same Lord Lister.

Though why he would do that is beyond me!

The instigator of the duel, Lord Areno, was from House Peltar, and Peltars don't need much convincing to mess with House Fyron. And if there's a price to pay...

Could it have been the Peltars? An act of delayed revenge for the fight at Pell? Oh, come on, that's ridiculous!

"What do you think of that, Taer?" The lord seemed tired of waiting for a meaningful response and decided to remind her of his existence.

"I think the duel was staged, and perhaps indeed for murder," Taer was a little uncomfortable admitting that she had missed her second assassination attempt in a week, but it was pointless to deny the facts.

But, shadows! After all, I'm not a bodyguard!

"I think so, too," Alex grinned wryly. "The question is who needs it and what to do."

"Hire guards, of course! Sixteen men at least, I think. Plus, you could get a dozen more droids and order..."

"Wait, wait, wait," the lord interrupted the specialist. "I was thinking along those lines myself, but then it occurred to me that if they'd tried it twice, they might try it a third time. The first time I survived by accident. The second time I was interrupted by Lord Lister and the "robbers" who appeared too just in time to be an accident. So those who want to kill me will mistake them for my guards. So next time they will act for sure and with the guards in mind..."

Alex leaned slightly towards the girl trustingly:

"That's why I asked you, how would you attack a target guarded by... well, the same sixteen people you were talking about? As long as you're not short of funds... within reason."

Taer was about to declare, "No way! I'm not an assassin!" but thought about it, imagining the operation to eliminate Lord Cassard as a sabotage mission assigned to Fleet Intelligence. The first thing that came to her mind was an accurate sniper rifle and a well-chosen position, but after thinking it over, she dismissed it - one might miss, and the target might be protected by a personal shield - after all, Lord Cassard could afford one.

No, a sniper rifle is not enough! The sabotage team will only have one try - they need to hit for sure. They've already missed twice.

She thought about the bomb for a while but gave up on it because it would be hard to plant the bomb into the castle and twice as hard to get it to the reception. And the high flyer wouldn't be able to reach even the bouncer.

And then it hit her - the HGM! A heavy guided missile could be easily obtained by a well-connected and well-resourced man, and the assault team had them on the payroll. An experienced operator can easily hit a flying flyer or put a rocket through a window from a decent distance.

She imagined very vividly how the silvery cylinder of the rocket, opening its guiding flaps and buzzing like an angry wasp, leaves the container on the soft launch engines, only to turn in a few moments into white-tailed death, which rumbles to its target with a crashing crack of supersonic tearing air. A blue, blindingly bright flash of the explosion and the flyer, as if hitting an invisible wall, shatters to smithereens, becoming a cloud of flaming debris. Or a missile strikes the window of the lord's bedroom, the primary charge overloads the weak field set rather against the robbers, and the main charge explodes inside. The room bursts into flames, a wave of heat instantly scorching everything in it, the ceiling and walls collapsing. The hit leaves a gaping black hole in its wake, illuminated by the uneven flames of the flaring fire. "Contact lost," the operator says, pulling down his glasses, and the observer confirms the hit... An unpleasant chill runs down Taer's back.

I'll get baked with the lord - the wall between our bedrooms has been weakened by a secret door.

Yes, that's exactly what she would have done. A late-night bombardment of the bedroom from HGM, and to make sure the lord was where he was supposed to be, the droid could be hacked, or a bug could be slipped in.

Great shadows. The droids were last checked almost half a year ago!

And after the strike, the group will retreat in a flyer waiting for them.

Or they're just firing from a semi-truck aerocar - the launcher will fit quite nicely. There's a very busy road leading to the spaceport ten minutes' flight from the castle, and the launcher could well be disposed of by dumping it into one of the countless canals.

"If I needed to securely eliminate a heavily guarded target, I would fire an HGM at the target's bedroom," the "specialist," said quietly. "And sixteen bodyguards would not help at all."

"HGM? What that?" Lord asked.

"A Heavy Guided Missile - it could well be placed in a large aerocar and fired through the open side door. The warhead has enough power to destroy a fragment of a castle or blow up a flyer."

Alex raised an eyebrow skeptically:

"Is there nothing that can be done? Like cordoning off possible launch sites or something... Shouldn't there be some way to deal with it?"

"A cordon will do nothing: some samples have a launch range of up to fifty comers, it's only ten comers to the estate boundary, and the rest is municipal land. But even if we agree with the municipality of Copeira to create a security ring of this radius, it would take several thousand men and a couple of thousand droids."

Taer wondered what could be done, and the Planetary Action Handbook immediately came to mind:

In the event of a threat of shelling of bases or squad material by guided missiles, bases, and field camps are sheltered by stationary or mobile shield generators of continuous operation with a minimum capacity of 500 pwt. The movement of equipment should be carried out in convoys with a minimum distance between vehicles of sixty measures and with mandatory cover by assault aircraft...

"Something can be done," Taer grinned grimly. "And it will be very expensive..."

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"How much?" Alex perked up.

"Well, I don't know yet," Taer said, leaning back in her chair. She already had a clear plan of action in her head, and the situation didn't seem so bad anymore:

"We need to find out. Probably a hundred million, plus surcharges for urgency."

"A hundred million what? Credits or denarii?"

"Danarii. And that's only an estimate. Plus, you will still need people - ten people at least."

"Not more expensive than money," Alex sighed in relief. "And what is proposed to be done?"

"Change the fleet of flyers. "Isato-Planet" is certainly a fancy machine, but it won't survive an HGM hit. Buy shield generators to cover the castle. Hire pilots capable of flying really, really low and really fast. Hire a couple of "free lances" to take care of the droids, and the little things there..."

"All right, then, find out the prices and buy whatever you think you need."

Anything I see fit? Hmm... sounds good...

Her eyes sparkled at the thought of a pair of personal wear shields and a brand new Sparkle with a boosted generator... and an adaptive sighting system. Her thoughts drifted from the Sparkle to a black pearl Mirage convertible sports coupe, but she quickly dismissed the captivating image:

"As you command, Your Grace."

"By the way, is firing missiles at the lords the order of the day? Wouldn't they dare or use something more modest?" Alex asked.

"I don't know," the 'specialist' shrugged and twisted in her chair. "You asked about the method. An HGM is, in my opinion, a very reliable method. I have no idea what professional assassins will do and what they will use. And whether or not they will decide to do so depends on the assailants, whether this approach is acceptable to them or not. In the end, it can be blamed on the PVD terrorists."

"Who would want to attack me?" the lord continued to inquire. "And what is the inquest's main theory about the first attack?"

"I don't know. We should send them a request. But I think the Imperial Security Service is looking for Anti-Imperial Alliance conspirators or PVD terrorists. The SS sleeps and sees the conspiracy being uncovered, so they're looking everywhere for Rebels and PVD terrorists. The Copeira police suspect some lone-wolf maniac. Because they're shaking with dread of the possible political fallout if the investigation leads them into the Great Houses squabbles. And Fyron's Intelligence is still undecided about the culprits and will decide depending on the political situation."

"How lovely!" Alex marveled. "So no one's going to look for the real poisoners at all? Who do you think it could be?"

"Anyone," Taer waved her hand vaguely. "Some insulted aristocrat, unscrupulous in his methods but scrupulous in matters of House honor. Guardsmen... though hardly likely, of course. Some relative - for the sake of inheritance."

"Like Baroness Rionale, for example?"

"No, she arrived later than your poisoning, and she doesn't have many motives, at least not right now."

But if she does marry you, who knows...

Taer stared thoughtfully at the ceiling and drummed her fingers on the armrest:

"Actually, I doubt they were relatives. You were poisoned at the reception at the House of Kerlith, and there were only two of your relatives there. Plus Baron Kouifi. We can dismiss the Baron at once - he had no sense to poison you and then save you. The Marquis of Azzardo and his wife? First, very distant kin. Second, quite well-off, and third, they're both almost a hundred years old. They have no motive at all. There were no strangers at the reception, and it's unlikely that any of your kin would have sent someone. They're not that powerful..." She paused meaningfully, hinting that high politics were involved.

And remembering Vallerie Bellar as the number one spouse candidate is very high politics!

But thick-skinned Alex didn't seem to catch the hint:

"And who, if not family? Someone so offended that they decided to poison me, and when that didn't work, arranged a "duel" for me? Do you often have such a reverent attitude towards honor?"

"Anything can happen, but what I meant was that there may be political motives involved..."

"Political? Did I undermine someone's electoral base? Or could I have gotten too many votes?" There was obvious sarcasm in the lord's words, but Taer could not grasp the essence of the sarcasm.

"What "base"? And what does this have to do with mining, anyway?" she genuinely didn't understand. "I mean, someone might not like the alliance between Fyron and Bentar, for example."

"And who wouldn't like him? And what does that have to do with me?"

"Like the Peltars, or those forces in House Bentar who are against an alliance with Fyron. How should I know? I'm no expert in politics! And you're involved through your potential bride."

"My... what?!" Alex was taken aback.

"The bride," Taer tensed slightly.

Didn't I say too much? But, after all, he couldn't help knowing!

"Do I have a fiancée as well?" The lord was clearly taken aback by the news.

"Well, it's not quite there yet," the "specialist" hesitated. "They're still negotiating... But if they do, yes. There will be a bride!"

"And who is she that they want to kill me because of her?"

"Valerie Bellar, the Rulning Lady of House Bentar. But it's not necessarily because of her. It's just a guess," Taer "reassured".

"Why me? Do we have an incredible love affair? Despite my reputation?"

This slightly confused Taer:

Really, this is nonsense. Why Lord Cassard? Do we have a shortage of lords? Could have found a couple of suitable ages with untainted reputations. So Bentar needs money so much that they're willing to turn a blind eye to Lord Cassard's reputation?

"As far as I know, there is no incredible love between you two. It's a political marriage. I would even say highly political," Taer explained at length. "House Fyren is voting for House Bentar in the High Council, weakening the House of Kilreat as well as the House Melato. The Bentarians, on the other hand, gain access to Lord Cassard's resources."

...and everyone is happy. "And what does Lord Cassard get? Alex was clearly beginning to get angry. I take it Bentar wants to get money from me. Fyron wants to get Bentar's vote. What's in it for me? Valerie Bellar and a lot of pain in the form of poisoners and duelists?"

"It wasn't my idea!" Taer raised her hands conciliatory. "And then, you're going to be Lord Consort!"

"I don't want!"

"Well, then you'll probably get a lot of persuasions... by very persuasive people... until they do."

"That they're going to torture me?" Alex grinned evilly.

"No way! No, of course not! But they'll use all the pressure they can get. Besides, I don't know the whole political business," Taer's voice sounded apologetic. "Maybe you were offered something that suited you fine."

Alex sat, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his face in his palms. Then he rubbed his face vigorously and looked tiredly at the girl:

"OK, we've just got one more item to deal with. We'll deal with security, then we'll figure out what to do about marriage. And by the way, where can I get a short course on History and the Political Situation for Idiots and Memoryless, because all these Melatos, Kilreths, and other Great Houses don't mean anything to me!"

Damn, I keep forgetting he's lost his memory!

"You know, I don't know how to help..." She paused, remembering that she hadn't thrown out her university notes. "Wait, maybe I'll find something, though."

She rummaged through her desk and drawers and, after a couple of minutes, found a scrapbook of notes. Pulling out info sticks of notes on the History of the Sector, Geopolitics, Imperial regulation, and overview lectures on the Great Houses, Taer threw the folder back into the desk and handed the info sticks to the lord.

"And how is this being used?" Alex asked, looking at the info sticks with interest.

"There is a slot in the terminal to plug them in, and that's it - you have access to the information."

"Then I'll be in my office reading, and you do the purchasing and hiring," Alex got up from his chair, about to leave.

"Er... of course I will, except... there's Kayrin. She is alone... probably long awake and bored. You invited her, and it's not good to leave her, after all," Taer said, a little surprised at her concern for the Baroness.

"Kayrin? Is she here yet?" Surprised the lord.

"Yes, she flew in last night. We didn't want to wake you up."

"All right, I'm off to entertain the Baroness," Alex began cheerfully. "I'll read at night," his cheerful tone faded away, and he summed up with a sour expression. "I won't get much sleep again."

The "specialist" shook her hands, like, what can you do? And she reminded him:

"Before you go to entertain the baroness, please contact the secretariat - have them open a line on me for one hundred and fifty million."

Alex just nodded in response and walked out. Taer sighed in relief, pulled a uniform and a towel from under the bed, threw them into the utility drawer, and sat down at the terminal. She had a lot of old guard acquaintances to call, and some of them to be lured into service with Lord Cassard.

There was no problem with "seducing" old acquaintances: she simply offered thirty-five thousand danarii a year each, which was about four times the salary of a Guardsman. She also talked about the accommodation. An hour later, she had three Pilots, a Lance, and a Field operator. And the need to get them transferred out of the Guard. Only Lance wasn't a problem - he was on a short contract and could break it at any time.

With a heavy sigh, Taer dialed the number of the Countess of Durlurl. There was no point in contacting the Ergo-Captain of the Guard, Lord Tsorto; he couldn't stand Lord Cassard and would have stuck. Just out of spite.

On the screen, a red griffin appeared on a grey field, enclosed in a golden circle. Beneath the circle was a stylized Golden Eye, the emblem of House Fyren's Intelligence.

After a few seconds, the screensaver disappeared, replaced by an elegant young man in a dark scarlet Guard uniform:

"Her Ladyship's secretariat, the Countess of Durlurl! What can I do for you?"

"Guardsman Taer Diltar, arm of Lord Cassard! I would like to speak to Her Ladyship."

"Is it urgent?"

"No, no, I'll wait," Taer hastily assured him.

"I'll contact you as soon as Her Ladyship is free," the secretary nodded. "Don't stray too far from the terminal."

"I'll be waiting," Taer replied, and after saying goodbye to the secretary with a slight nod, she disconnected.

As soon as the screen shut down, she relaxed and sighed in relief. Despite the fact that Countess Durlurl was very sweet, smiling, and charming - for some unknown reason she made Taer feel a kind of unnatural trepidation and nervousness. So deep down she was glad that the conversation had not taken place.

But the emergency transfer issue can still only be resolved by her.

With a sigh, Taer pulled out the All Copeira Companies info-stick and began searching for someone who could sell her a shield generator and, preferably, three landing-assault shuttles right now.

After two hours, she managed to contact about a hundred different companies and intermediaries. The landing and assault shuttles were not the sort of thing you could buy "right now" especially since she wanted a model with dismantled armaments. The generator on the other hand, apparently, could be bought from the local Zonn-Mer office, as they say, "off the showcase". At least, a charming brunette in a strict grey business suit assured her that "we can certainly come to a mutually beneficial agreement, Mrs. Diltar. Come and discuss it!"

And she would have arrived in Zonn-Mer long ago, but waiting for a call from the Countess kept her at the terminal. Not to be bored just yet, she searched for something civilian, fast, and with a very powerful field, reckoning that such a beast would be found among the special machinery for environments of increased aggression.

She was just discussing with another consultant the specifications for the Industrial Flare 'Bleek' with external protection level IM92, trying to figure out what the very 'IM' meant when suddenly a call signal flickered in the corner of the screen on another channel. She quickly said goodbye to the consultant and, inwardly freezing, changed the channel. On the screen appeared the former secretary, who said that the Countess was free. A moment later, Countess Durlurl appeared in his place in her own right.

"Hello, guardsman! What do you want with the old woman Durlurl?" She asked in a ringing voice of a girl in her twenties.

"Greetings, Your Ladyship! I wanted to ask for your assistance in placing four Guardsmen under Lord Cassard as soon as possible."

Taer remembered her as a bossy woman with a look that stared straight into her soul and long past her fifth decade. This made her even more nervous.

"What, you don't want to mess with Lord Tsorto? Well, I don't blame you - he's a mean man. But he's afraid of me," the Countess smiled dazzlingly and waved her hand as if she were a sorceress. "Give me those poor people's cases, and I'll see what I can do."

"Please, Your Ladyship."

"Well, let's see," the Countess's gaze shifted to the side. There must have been an extra screen. "A Field operator and three Stoorm Pilots," she tapped her finger on her chin thoughtfully. "Well, that could well be arranged." She took her eyes away from the screen and looked intently at Taer. "By the way, ma cherie, don't you think you're being unkind to your rescuer?"

"What is my fault, Your Ladyship?" The girl muttered, shuddering inwardly.

"Can you imagine how offended I was to hear about the duel and its details from strangers and not from you, my favorite?"

"I only found out the details this morning," Taer squeaked. "I didn't want to worry you with my speculation before then, Your Ladyship."

And her eyes are as icy and prickly as ever, an inappropriate thing flashed across the edge of her mind. And anyway, get it together. Why are you squeaking like a strangled mouse? She's not your boss anymore - technically, we have almost equal status!

The auto-training was of little help, the Countess continued to stare at Taer, and she cringed under her gaze, shrinking in size.

"Oh, you woe is my, guardsman!" The Countess stopped glaring at Taer and smiled charmingly. "When do you need these pilots and operators of yours?"

"As soon as possible, Your Ladyship!"

"All right, the personal contracts will be handed to you in half an hour," the Countess almost chanted and passed out before Taer had a chance to splash out a thank you.

As soon as the terminal shut down, Taer sighed in relief and leaned back in her chair, unbuttoning her collar:

Why do you tremble in front of her, you shameful thing? You might as well hang up a picture of her and look at it every day for practice!

Having mentally scolded herself, Taer took a shower, changed her clothes, and went to negotiate the purchase of the generator, taking with her an elegant black leather folder with the "Emerald" infoblock. She always took it with her when she wanted to look more solid.

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