“Are you serious?” asked Shear as Cam and Hermes walked through the doors ahead of Gwn.
Though he said it generally, Cam knew Shear’s disapproval was directed very pointedly at him. He pouted. “I didn’t do anything, Captain. I swear. We just slept.”
“That’s not what the alert said from Gwn ten minutes ago,” said one of the investigators, reading over his digipad.
Cam spun to give her a furious look and Gwn rolled her eyes in return. “I found you buttoning your pants. What was I supposed to think?”
“You could try minding your own fucking business, for starters—”
“Ollis,” snapped Shear, and Cam closed his mouth, nose wrinkled in fury.
“Cam is not lying,” said Hermes. “We slept. We were too tired to engage in sexual conduct.”
Shear pinched the space between his eyebrows. “And I thought you were with Tamn—so why are you spending the night with Hermes?”
The investigators all shared wide-eyed looks, scandalized, and Cam felt himself snap. “I’m not with Tamn. I’ve never been with Tamn—not—romantically. Frankly, none of this is any of your business,” he said, face flush with embarrassment and anger at once. “And besides, Hermes and I did not have sex.” Hardcore making out was not sex, and he’d stand by that. Neither of them had even had an orgasm. Which was, in its own right, a problem, but certainly not a problem he’d rehash with his boss.
“I do not understand why engaging in sexual relations with Cam would be inappropriate,” said Hermes.
“You’re traumatized and grieving and I don’t want someone taking advantage of you,” Shear said, and Cam’s guilt appeared at the front of his mind, hissing like an excited snake. He grit his teeth until Shear took mercy and continued, “Look, Ollis is actually right—this conversation isn’t suitable for mixed company.”
“It could be relevant, though,” said Falco, seated at the end of the table, eating a sausage wrapped in pastry. He chewed and spoke around the food in his mouth, “Cam’s a suspect.”
“Excuse me?” said Cam, suddenly awash with fear. “What does that mean?”
Shear cleared his throat and gestured for everyone to sit. “We went through Qhathiren’s things late last night and early this morning. We found some relevant…items.” He pointed to documents on the table, sealed in plastic.
Cam leaned in and could see a note—typed in a simple serif font.
We are going to kill you and right the wrongs committed by the misguided. Pray to your god that he may not punish you in the great beyond for the sin of your existence.
“What the fuck?”
“This is one of five notes threatening assassination.”
“You think I did this?” Cam’s voice was tinged in panic, heart racing. “I would never.”
“We’re not accusing you,” said Gwn. “You’re just a subject of interest.”
“I shouldn’t be. I’ve never—I would never—”
“These notes are not for Dr. Wha,” Hermes said, standing over the table, reading them. “They are intended for me.”
“You don’t know that,” said Gwn.
Shear ignored her and leaned towards Hermes. “What makes you say that, Hermes?”
“The sin of your existence is a common phrase said to me when I encounter the Anti-I movement. My existence, in their eyes, is sin. That phrase is used in every letter. These notes were written for me. Not her.”
“They weren’t given to you, though. They were given to Wha,” Falco said, sounding, once more, bored. He began to lick the crumbs from his fingers. “So we really can’t be sure.”
“I am sure,” said Hermes. “Shortly before her death, Dr. Wha said—”
Silence followed as Hermes’ eyes went wide and blank. The moment stretched out uncomfortably long—until Cam placed a hand upon Hermes’, stroking his fingers gently. “What did she say?”
Hermes’ eyes jerked almost robotically before he shook his head, as if clearing it. “Shortly before her death, Dr. Wha said, ‘I was trying to take care of it alone.’ Implying that the situation at hand involved others. Specifically, me. It is reasonable to assume I was being threatened and she hid it from me. How did she acquire these letters?”
Falco shrugged.
Shear answered, “It’s not possible to transmit letters in this format unless we’re on the same vessel.” Which was true, Cam concluded, as he looked at the papers through the plastic. They were clearly composed of the thin, 3D printed papercraft found only on Stellarships. Shear continued, “She had to have received them while aboard Soter. Someone here wanted Qhat—or you—dead.
“You’re saying this sick fuck is on our ship.” Cam did the math in a panic. There were about one thousand crewmen on Soter. Not such a great number that would be impossible to vet, but a challenge. Someone who wanted Hermes dead could sneak among the crew, preparing a strike.
But there were only so many people who could have arranged a landing on T-446. Fewer than two dozen had control over missions.
Cam, himself, was not qualified. “It’s not me,” Cam said. Gwn, Falco, and the other investigators looked at him flatly. “What I mean,” Cam continued, “Is that if we have a traitor on board, it has to be someone who could have arranged a stop at T-446. That’s where we were attacked—and it was obviously premeditated. I couldn’t have done it—I didn’t even know the mission details until a week beforehand and I have absolutely no control over that part of our processes. It couldn’t have been me.” He looked to Hermes, concerned, suddenly, that he wouldn’t believe him.
When he met Hermes’ eyes, he was greeted with a look of unabashed affection. “It is not you,” said Hermes, voice gone soft and quiet. “There are a number of individuals on the crew that could be responsible, and you are not on that list.”
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Falco snorted, wiping his hands with a paper napkin, now. “Well, that’s where it gets confusing.” He looked to Gwn, who seemed hesitant to continue. “What? We’re not gonna tell them?”
Gwn groaned. “It seems like the mission to T-446 was requested by Qhathiren herself. She found the planet’s information in the database. Accessed it before coming aboard. She submitted it for review. This mission happened because she wanted it to happen. So, unless she wanted Hermes dead herself…”
“Impossible,” said Hermes.
“It’s not,” replied Falco.
“Maybe the Anti-I guy found out about the mission and planted his people there,” Cam said. “Our missions aren’t secret. Anyone on the ship could have found out if they just read the logs.”
“Or someone planted it in front of Qhat and tricked her into submitting it, yeah,” said Shear. “Those are all possibilities.”
Cam felt like he was missing something obvious, but the racing of his pulse made it hard to think clearly. He wished he were doing math, instead. Numbers were logical, clear, and straightforward. This mess—was frightening—and twisted.
“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, Cam,” said Gwn. “It’s our job to solve the puzzle. Not yours.”
Cam was going to launch Gwn into space. Launching people into space was always an option.
“Look,” Shear said, voice raised. “The most likely scenario, here, is that we have a traitor on board, and this person either wanted my fiancee or Hermes dead. Until we uncover the rat, we need you under constant surveillance. Both of you.”
“Are you assigning us bodyguards?” Cam raised his hands. “I don’t think that’s necessary—”
“Yes. It is. And considering the crew we lost on T-446—we’re short-staffed on soldiers. So.” Shear gestured. “Falco will be your man, Ollis.”
Cam recoiled in horror.
“And for Hermes, we’re using one of our own. Are you familiar with Soen Tamn?”
Hermes’ eyebrows lifted, eyes wide. Finally, he said, “I am.”
“Great. He’s yours.”
We should have had sex, Cam thought, despaired and irrational. He wasn’t going to get to spend time alone with Hermes ever again.
----------------------------------------
Half blind by the broken glass but he had been f/ully blind to the truth long before now. // ./
/
He was tired
And the music kept going//.
It warmed him but
//
/ He was so tired but
he had t
to s
SAVE CAM
SAVE CAM
SAVE C//AM
-.
----------------------------------------
“I feel like I’m missing something obvious,” Cam said as he walked at Hermes’ side. They were heading to the Caf, where Soen Tamn was waiting for Hermes to arrive and begin his new assignment.
// . Music followed their steps
Each/h/ step
A new key
Ting - ting / .
Silence. // . /
Hermes hadn’t had any time to make peace with the arrangement or to fully digest his discomfort with being in close quarters with a sexual partner of Cam. In fact, something weird happened to Hermes when he looked at Cam and thought of Soen Tamn—possessive anger stroked at him unbidden.
He didn’t want Cam and Soen to touch ever again.
Hermes felt embarrassed at himself and his seemingly irrational feelings. He tried to exhale it all from his lungs in one long breath. Cam had plenty of relationships aboard the ship. It was his many connections that made him perfect. But the thought of Tamn engaging Cam romantically left Hermes sour and gray.
He was discovering many new landscapes of emotion and they were almost all terrible. How did people do this? And for more than a hundred years? Existence was a prison.
Cam blinked his big blue eyes at Hermes curiously and said, “What is it?”
“It is nothing,” Hermes lied. Another lie. At this rate, he would become an expert in the disingenuous.
Cam scoffed. “You’re a terrible liar.” Hermes nearly tripped over his feet and Cam’s subsequent teasing smile was a sunrise after a rainy night.
So, not all of his new emotions were bad, then. This one—the warm, welcoming, and gentle affection for Cam—was very good.
“I thought my ability to lie was improving,” Hermes said.
Cam laughed. It was Hermes’ favorite sound, probably. Did people have favorite sounds? He wondered if he could capture it in a song. His fingers twitched.
Hermes spoke quietly. “I suppose I feel lost, too. It seems unbelievable that anyone would hate Dr. Wha. She was new to Soter. I am new. But we had an existing enemy aboard the ship?” Hermes added, eyes defocusing as he thought aloud, “And—why did she get the letters meant for me?”
“I guess they weren’t going to your mailbox?”
“I do not have a mailbox,” Hermes said, brows pinching close, looking back to Cam again.
Cam raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you do. The room next to the Caf.”
Hermes was quiet for a moment. “Can you show me?”
“Yeah.”
Together they ducked through an automatic door into a square black room lined with many small doors framed with ambient lighting. Cam approached a digital panel at one end and tapped at the screen, bringing up crew names and mailbox numbers. “Here it is. Ninety-six.” He guided Hermes to mailbox ninety-six and pointed at the silver buttons at the front. “You input your security code here.”
Hermes hesitated. Why hadn’t he known about this? Carefully, he input a numerical code, and blinked in surprise as the door popped open. “Oh.”
“No one told you about this?”
“No.”
Cam pulled the door open the entire way. “Well, there are only three letters, so someone has been checking your mail.” His blue eyes slid over to Hermes, wondering if he understood—and he did.
“Dr. Wha was regularly accessing my mailbox and removing the threatening letters. She knew my Soter security code. It was chosen by her—I thought it was helpful that she decided on the numbers for me.” At the time, he saw it as another way in which she was guiding him through the intricacies of real life. And that was the truth—but not the entire truth.
“Well.” Cam closed the mailbox back and sighed. “That explains it, then.”
“See, this is the sort of thing that’s going to cause me problems, Ollis,” came a voice from the mailroom doorway.
Hermes and Cam both jolted to face Falco, who had his arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
“I go to pee and you say, ‘We’ll meet in the Caf,’ and instead, you detour. You can’t take detours when you’re under threat.”
Cam bristled a bit. “I can do whatever I want.”
“You can’t, actually, because it’s unsafe.” Falco’s narrowed eyes squinted over to Hermes. “You should know better. Orders are orders. And your orders, right now, are to have a trained soldier at your side.”
Hermes didn’t like Falco. But, in this instance, he wasn’t wrong. Still, it wasn’t Cam’s fault. “I requested that Cam show me the mailroom.”
“Show you?” Falco stepped inside, looking slightly less perturbed. “What’s that mean?”
Hermes looked at the mail in his hands. One envelope with some sort of paystub, a second from the Earthguard—
His stomach knotted. The third envelope was a letter folded in on itself with a now-familiar serif font. He held it up for Cam and Falco and said, “Dr. Wha was intercepting my mail. This is another letter from the Anti-I.”
“Oh no,” said Cam. “Oh shit.”
Falco groaned and walked over to look at the letter up-close. “Lovely. Alright. Hold on.” He pulled out his digipad and hit a few buttons to begin a video recording. “Go ahead. Crack it open.”
Hermes did, unfolding the note. Inside, the same font as the letters he’d read earlier.
We do not rejoice for a sinner killed. We weep for the loss of a human soul. When you die at our hand, we will absolve the sin of your existence, and perhaps she will find peace then.
“Fucking gross,” Cam said. He then looked at the video and mumbled, “Oh, right. You’re recording. Sorry.”
Falco shrugged and ended the video. “I’ll take the letter and have it analyzed. I’m assuming there’ll be no prints except yours and Ollis’, but it’s worth checking.”
An uncomfortable silence developed between them.
“Let’s go drop you off with Tamn.”
Hermes couldn’t argue, so he didn’t.