„Since we found the Cult’s encampment, we could, I don’t know, send the coordinates to the Fleet and nuke the place?“ Flextruth asks impatiently as the silence between her and Scargrin has turned more than uncomfortable.

„And nuke ourselves in the process?“ he asks back, clearly fighting his hangover. „Stupid girl.“

„Don’t call me that.“

„Girl?“

„No, stupid!“

„Then don’t ask stupid questions.“

For a few moments, they stare at each other with pure anger. But the anger soon dissipates into mild frustration, at least on Flextruth‘s part.

„This is a capture mission and not a surveillance one,“ she mumbles discontent.

„The nature of the mission is at my discretion and I clocked it in as surveillance now,“ Scargrin replies with a longing gaze towards his bottle of Bittertonic. „Be happy I didn‘t note the loose of your squat, which will come out sooner or later.“

„Why are you even doing this?“ she asks defeated. „I most likely only get a demotion and a cut in payment and frivolities.“

„You’re one of my most efficient Interviewers,“ he replies as if this would answer her questions to her satisfaction. „I want you to stay in the position you’re currently in, as you’re most useful to me in it.“

„As if,“ she says dismissively. „Zimael Doromis has a higher quota than me.“

„Because she catches and tortures the next best suspect into admitting things they didn’t do. But you actually go down to the bottom of things.“

„Then why are you keeping it not only a secret because this is the first time I heard about it, but her still in the job?“

„Because she’s the last still living daughter of the Cetusian Steward.“

„For real?“

„For real. Stupid asshole did his nature-given job for a few Circles before he became bored with it.“

„You’re quite the gossiper, aren’t you?“ Flextruth asks after a few silent moments.

„People let their guard down if they think you’re out of it,“ he replies amused.

„So you are telling me the Cetusian Steward knows about your habit and hasn’t kicked you out yet?“

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

„I’m one of the few Inquisitors who does his job with the necessary dignity and diligence. It also helps that I manage to get sober long enough for the important stuff. Beyond that, it’s the only thing he can blackmail me with.“

„Blackmail…“

„He’s got the nasty tendency to collect intel on everyone, no matter if they belong to the Cetusian Fleet or not. Once you met him, and he bothers to remember your name, he starts to collect. He’s got a whole building complex on the moon fitted from cellar to roof with high-end servers, not only to save all the intel he gathers but also to access it anytime he wants wherever he is. Paranoid fucker.“

„And the First Steward lets him do it?“ Flextruth asks disbelieving.

„Doromis Karion does his work and Marconite never interferes as long as everyone does what’s expected of them,“ Scargrin replies and stretches his arms above his head. „Or rather, as long as no one questions him or gets too close to the Empress.“

Again silence. Flextruth frowns and leans back. Her headache subsides slowly, but still not fast enough for her taste. She also wonders about what they’re exactly doing.

„I guess the Cult took them in,“ Scargrin muses after a while.

„Took whom in?“ she asks ill-tempered, but the anger’s short-lived.

„Our targets. I’ll send a message to Domoris and ask for authorisation to reclass this mission again.“

„That means we’re not going to waste more time milling about the fringe of the Cultist’s camp,“ Flextruth remarks, all too happy to soon turn her back to this mess — at least for a little while, since there was still the fact she lost her squat.

„Don’t bother with a happy dance just yet,“ Scargrin says less than enthused himself. „Domoris’s slow in answering any requests or messages. Very slow. So, we might have to wait until the end of the night or even longer before we can get back on the space station.“

„Uh…“ she groans and closes her eyes for a few moments.

„I know,“ he says and leans back on his chair. „Well, we can talk a little, if you don’t mind.“

„About what?“

„As you already realised, I’m a gossiper. So throw a name at me and I tell you anything I know about them.“

„A name, you say?“ Flextruth muses thoughtful. „Well, let’s start with our targets.“

„I thought you to be more creative, Flex,“ he replies amused.

„What’s that supposed to mean?“ she asks with a hiss and pulled her ears back.

„I mean, what can I tell you that you don’t know already via the dossiers?“

„We only have the dossiers from the deserters, but what about the other names that popped up during the Starblazer Incident?“

„Well, throw me a name and I tell you what I know.“

Flextruth thinks for a moment. Laapis Azura and Maurus Serdan aren’t my first choice. They're after all the Second Steward and just a random Agent. But they can serve as a test to see how much he knows about them. Once I get a feeling of his knowledge, I can ask about those, who are still somewhat unaccounted for.

„If you would rather not gossip for a bit, I can understand that,“ he interrupts her thoughts with another longing gaze towards the Bittertonic. „But then you’ve to accept that I’m going to get my mind a bit away from our present situation.“

„I won’t let you continue with this shit,“ she snaps and snatches the bottle away from him.

Scargrin looks at her as if he already goes through a nasty bout of with-drawl, while thinking about the proper way to dismember her.

„Laapis Azura and Maurus Serdan,“ she says in attempt to avoid a fight.

„You’re going easy on me,“ he replies side-eyeing her.

„Perhaps I hope to get better results once you’ve sobered up some more.“

„Cruel and unusual punishment.“

„Stop bitching and start telling me what you know about the Second Steward and her Agent!“

„Right… A moment, I need to remember.“

„Any moment now,“ she nags and places the Bittertonic bottle inside one of her hyperspace bracelets.

„You’re awfully impatient but I think I can manage.“

„Then start!“