Chapter 14 - The Executive
Inter-system Shuttle #3498
Romanov City, Gagarin, Union of Federated Systems
Monday, 17 September 3488
“We currently have ten minutes until arrival at the Romanov City Starport, please start returning to your seats and prepare your belongings.” Came the announcement over the inter-system shuttle’s public address system. Outside the window the ball-like shape of Orbital Defense Station 4, one of the Union capital’s network of self-defense stations, was visible floating in the distance, all manners of warships gathered around it. The shuttle did a wide turn around the station, lining itself up with the green and white ball which was Novaterra’s fourth and furthest-out moon, Gagarin. An increased hum whined from the shuttle’s hull as the engines revved up for the atmospheric re-entry.
“According to this record, Hontaro Deckran checked into the Duvelli Lodge one week from last Tuesday and has been there ever since.” Announced Brextallor. “The record also indicates that his small vacation is set to run through the end of this week, so he should be available for a chat.”
Xanthe compressed her lips into a thin smile, turning a look on the small Proximan. As usual he sat as straight as a statue, oversized goggles covering his large eyes. From the hints of light which escaped from the sides of the goggles, Xanthe knew he was currently lost in his cyber-world, scanning for every bit of information possible on their target. “Have I ever told you that your ability to get information on people is downright scary?”
“Yes,” Replied Brex, matter-of-factly. “Many times.”
Xanthe’s smile widened as she crossed her arms. “So how did you figure this one out? Combing Deckran’s personal holonet pages? Manipulating some weakness in the hotel’s secure guest database?”
“Neither,” Replied Captain Rigby, seated cross-legged in the seat opposite them. She lowered the breviary she was holding. “This one came as a freebee from our new friends at FedSec.”
All at once, Xanthe’s smile began to fade. “Ah, FedSec. Terrific.” Even before knowing that either Andara or Maro were undercover she had cared little for them, and the revelation only compounded that feeling. “And here I was, wondering whether we’d be able to work with them again. Lucky me.”
That got Brex’s attention, as he turned his gaze on Xanthe. “I thought you couldn’t stand those two FedSec agents. I thought you were jealous with all of the attention the female agent was giving to Aves.”
Xanthe automatically gagged at that one. “The day I’m jealous of Garrick Aves is the day I give up all hope.”
“She’s joking,” Rigby replied, a patient grin on her face. “She’s making a sarcastic remark about her distaste for the FedSec agents.”
Xanthe shook her head at the explanation, giving the Proximan a pat on his bony shoulder. “Sorry, Brex. I forgot you don’t do humor very well.”
Brex seemed taken aback at that implication. “I very much love humor,” He replied. “It is a staple of our culture.”
“Right,” Xanthe replied. “But not…our type of humor.”
If Brex was offended at the comment, he didn’t show it. Instead, he returned to his optical computer screens. “If that was your attempt at humor, then no. I do not understand it nor find it comical in the least.”
“Change of topic,” Xanthe said, deciding to let that one go. “What’s the plan of attack here, Captain? I doubt that Hontaro Deckran will just let us ask him whatever we want.”
“Normally no, you’d be correct,” Rigby replied. “But Deckran’s current location wasn’t the only present our friends from FedSec gave us.”
Xanthe’s shoulders dropped. “Oh really? If it’s more blackmail, I think I might have to object.” She could accept holding Partash Vess’s illegal dealings with Nebulaeus over his head – even if her conscience would have much rather turned him in regardless – but wouldn’t feel nearly as comfortable with anything coming from FedSec. There was no telling what scheming, bribery, or fabrication was involved in obtaining that sort of blackmail.
Rigby nodded in agreement. “Fortunately, it’s nothing like that.” The Captain leaned in, lowering her voice. “As it turns out, Hontaro Deckran is a FedSec asset, himself.”
Xanthe’s eyes widened. Now that was big news. “He’s a…what?”
Rigby lowered her breviary and picked the digital tablet, her own personal computing device. She hit a few of the buttons which popped up, then made a swiping motion across the holographic screen. Right on cue, Brextallor seemed to perk up. Xanthe guessed that the Captain had just sent him some sort of file, a fact that was confirmed by the Proximan’s sudden muted yelp of excitement.
“It is true,” The Proximan said. “According to this, Hontaro Deckran has been feeding intelligence to FedSec for the better part of the last eighteen months.”
Xanthe blinked. That sure changed things. “What sort of information was he feeding back to them?”
“It’s unclear from these documents,” Rigby replied. “But it’s not uncommon for intelligence agencies to keep highly-placed contacts inside corporations. Especially those with as many defense contracts as JekWare.”
Xanthe frowned. “That doesn’t make sense; why did they let the Senate bring him in for questioning on the Samatria Disaster then? And why are they letting us talk to him if he’s such an important contact?”
A hint of a wry smile crossed Rigby’s lips. “I’d assume that’s because he isn’t a particularly important contact. The Samatria investigation is over and nothing negative was found, so I presume Deckran has outlived his usefulness. As to why they let the Senate interview him, I would assume it’s because they didn’t tell the Senate they were running their own operation on the side.”
“That one doesn’t surprise me,” Xanthe replied, rubbing her forehead. All of these half-stories and new developments around this investigation had long-since wore thin, and she still felt like they were running a hopelessly uphill race. They’d been at this for two days now, and it still seemed they didn’t have most of the story.
“I would also guess that Hontaro Deckran’s veiled threat to the senators could be related to his Federal Security contacts,” Brex suggested. “And then would have nothing to do with his involvement with the kidnapping.”
“If this even is a kidnapping, when it’s all laid out in the open.” Xanthe countered.
“I’m still confident that’s what we’re dealing with,” Rigby replied. “As of yet, we still haven’t found a single person who is aware of Euphemia’s whereabouts. Given that you and Aves were almost killed over this, I’d say that criminal activity is confirmed.”
“Point taken.” Xanthe sigh, returning her gaze to the window just in time to catch the blackness of space turn into the bright white of the Gagarin sky. She uncomfortably thought to the previous night’s escapade. “I just want to know where this girl went,” She added. “So far we have politicians, federal agents, assassins, and pirates all running circles around each other. I’m beginning to feel like we’ll never find her.”
“Another layer deeper is one step closer to Euphemia,” Rigby reminded her.
And that, Xanthe knew, was the lynchpin which this whole conspiracy turned around. “How did poor Euphemia get herself wrapped up in all of this?”
It was the Rigby’s turn to look out the window, a rare look of helplessness on the Captain’s serene face. “I don’t know.”
“I just pray she’s okay.”
“As do I.” The Captain agreed.
Outside the window the thin cloud cover gave way to a bright day over the city of earthen-colored structures spread out amongst the otherwise tree-speckled gray and white of the Union capital’s smallest moon. Thanks to its positioning as the furthest satellite, Gagarin had a cooler climate and more tundra and mountains than the other three, making it a premier destination for skiing and other cold weather activities. This had the added effect of making it Xanthe’s least-favorite of the Novaterran resort moons, its winter climate radically different from the tropics of her own home planet way back in Quorth space. The very sight of Romanov City, a clustering of modest gray office towers and brown lodges covered with a light dusting of snow, gathered on one side of a tall snow-peaked mountain, made Xanthe shiver despite the thick parka she wore.
Over the next several minutes this small city began to grow closer and closer, before the tall walls of the shuttle station consumed the shuttle, and it came to a gentle landing on the platform. It took another minute or two for the landing procedures to be completed, and finally the boarding walkway fastened itself to the shuttle’s door, allowing them to disembark. The attendant’s voice reappeared over the public address system, announcing their arrival. Xanthe paid little attention to the message, only locking in on the description of “great skiing weather”, and a “temperature of 2 degrees”. With a grunt, she zipped her parka up as far as it would allow and followed Rigby and Brex out of the ship. The shuttle station itself was fairly organized as stations went, and without any luggage to retrieve, it took them no time at all until they were outside into the cold afternoon itself. A heavy breeze greeted them the moment they exited.
“Why did I agree to this, again?” Xanthe asked, rubbing her hands together and watching her breath waft visibly in front of her.
“I believe you said that you would be willing to do ‘anything so long as Aves was not involved’.” Brex added. Xanthe frowned, recalling that she had said something exactly like that.
“Brextallor, have I ever told you what a rhetorical question is?”
“No,” The Proximan replied. “You have not.”
“Both of those were rhetorical questions.” Xanthe replied, impatiently. Brex looked up to the Captain for clarification, where Rigby was shaking her head.
“A rhetorical question is a when you ask a question not to get a literal response, but instead to highlight a point or make a statement.” Rigby clarified.
“What is the point of asking a question, if one does not want a response?” Brex asked. “If one wants to make a statement, then one can just make a statement. This makes no sense to me.”
“It’s a figure of speech,” Xanthe replied.
“Which way to the Duvelli Lodge?” Rigby asked, moving them past that.
“It is that way,” Brex announced, pointing up the long avenue. The street ran right up into the foot of that tall mountain which overlooked the city, the buildings getting more rustic and more spaced out the further one got up the slope.
“Great,” Xanthe replied, with a shiver, her breath visible in front of her. “I’d love to go up to where it’s even colder.”
“Mind hailing us a taxi, Brex?” Captain Rigby asked.
“Already done,” The Proximan was quick to reply. “It should be here…” He hesitated a moment, as a speeder with the markings of a taxi dropped from the speeder lanes above, coming to a halt right in front of them. “…presently.” The door opened to the driverless speeder, the stilted robotic voice inviting them inside.
“Thank you.” Rigby said to Brex.
“So you said that Deckran is a FedSec asset, but I still fail to see why he’ll believe that they sent us to speak with him.” Xanthe pointed out, once they were inside the welcome warmth of the taxi, having registered their destination. The speeder returned to the second-level of traffic near the tops of the building, making its way towards the lodge. “How exactly do we get this guy to talk to us?”
“FedSec gave us a little help on that one, too.” The Captain replied.
“Fantastic.” Xanthe replied.
“There’s a specific code-word that they’ve given Deckran, so he knows we’re there in official capacity. With that, Andara was confident that he’d tell us whatever we want to know.”
Xanthe rolled her eyes, knowing she walked into that one. “Well, if Andara says it’s going to work, then I’m not worried.”
Brex looked at her. “Once again, you are giving me mixed signals about whether or not you trust this Federal Security agent or not.”
“Sarcasm, again.” Xanthe corrected with a sigh. She caught Rigby studying her carefully.
“Is this just about Aves, or do you truly find reason to distrust these two agents?” If anyone else had asked the question, Xanthe probably would have told them to mind their own business. However, this was a standard Captain Rigby line of questioning. She was probing to sort Xanthe’s own prejudices from what may be an actual gut feeling, partially to give herself a better understanding of the situation, and partly to remind Xanthe not to let her fickle personal feelings mar her judgement. Despite this, Xanthe couldn’t hide her annoyance at the question.
Xanthe crossed her arms, feeling like a child getting questioned by a parent. “Which do you think?” She asked.
“I’d say a bit of both,” Rigby replied. Again, Xanthe couldn’t help that bit of frustration seep through at the Captain’s accurate guess.
Xanthe hesitated a moment, before dropping her guard. “Fine. I just didn’t like either of them. Maybe Andara and Maro were just good at playing nightclub sleazy-types, but…” She sigh. “I don’t know. After that whole wiretapping incident with the Archbishop’s office that was all over the news last year, maybe I just don’t trust federal agents in general.”
Rigby nodded thoughtfully. “I spoke with Partash about it your run-in with them, and he seems confident from his own sources that FedSec has no actual stake in the case other than what they told you.”
“And you trust Partash Vess?” Xanthe still didn’t.
Captain Rigby smiled widely. “On this one I do.”
The speeder ride took about fifteen minutes to get them up to the resort district, Xanthe anxiously watching the outside temperature gauge sink into the negatives. The Captain had returned to her breviary, Brex to his digital world of disassociation, and Xanthe to the window. As she watched the downtown of the city shift to the outskirts of the resort district, she meditated on what the Captain had said about FedSec. Was there something other than her usual frustration with Aves and a bias against federal agents which had rankled her ire towards the two agents? Andara was surely a stuck-up haetchfwerr and Maro’s scumbag persona had been more than enough for Xanthe to decide she didn’t like either, but surely it wouldn’t be fair to lambast them because of that. At the very least, Judith Rigby wouldn’t have allowed that to drive her to immediate distrust of the pair. Nor would it be particularly Christ-like for her to base her entire distrust on preconceived notions.
They reached the Duvelli Lodge without Xanthe definitively settling the matter in her head. The taxi came to a stop outside a grouping of three five-story wooden structures serving as the main lodging towers of the complex, arrayed so that the two outer of the buildings stood at an angle to the main building in the middle. They exited the vehicle and stood amongst the other tourists, staring up at what were the three tallest buildings visible in the near distance.
“Fancy place,” Xanthe commented. “This Hontaro Deckran doesn’t skimp out.”
Rigby nodded. “Being the Senior VP of a major defense contractor allows you to be a bit generous with your vacations.” She waved them forward. “Come on; he’s staying on the fourth floor, room 4033.”
If the outside of the lodge was impressive on a purely structural standpoint, the interior was impressive on the artistic. The lobby was done up in an imitation of the Parfful style – plenty of animal skulls, stuffed hides, and other accoutrements of a species whose past times largely included the sport of game hunting. The ceiling of the lobby went up the entire height of the building, with a row of railings surrounding it on all sides. At the center was a large five-story tall evergreen tree, still rooted in the soil beneath and giving off the impression that the building had been constructed around the tree, and not the other way around. All around the lobby Xanthe was able to pick out maybe five or six holographic screens, most of the place opting for a more old-fashioned and low-tech vibe than on Novaterra proper. Rigby paused when they came to the center of the lobby, doing a slow glance around.
“Something wrong, Captain?” Xanthe asked, never getting a particularly good feeling when the Captain hesitated. She did her own scan, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, just a lobby full of beings on vacation.
“Brex, do you think you could get some eyes over this place?” Rigby asked.
The Proximan sidled up beside them. “I already tried getting into their security system, but the place it locked down very tightly. If I were to try and break in, it would take me several hours.”
“We don’t have several hours,” Rigby muttered. “Do you have any other tricks up your sleeve?”
Brextallor looked down to the sleeves of his small parka. “I do not have anything in my…”
“Figure of speech,” Xanthe was quick to add. “She wants to know if you have any other way to spy on this place.”
“Oh,” Brex replied. “That makes much more sense.” He reached into one pocket, pulling out a small black device and holding it in the palm of his hand. Xanthe had seen this before; it was a drone of sorts, not one with any sort of sophisticated personality matrix, but one equipped with a series of 360-degree cameras, capable of being remotely piloted. It was so small that unless one was specifically looking for it, you weren’t going to see it. “Where would you like me to deploy?”
Rigby thought a moment. “Do you think they’d have an issue with you flying that thing in here?”
Brex’s large head bobbed in a rough semi-circular motion. A Proximan shrug. “I would have to imagine that tourists use drones like this all of the time for taking pictures. They are likely used to it.”
Rigby nodded an agreement. “Then have a seat over there and keep watch on the lobby. I want to know if anyone strange comes in.”
“By strange, I would assume you mean any Humans with scarred faces?” Brex asked.
“That would be a start, yes.” They parted ways with Brex, the Proximan settling himself in one of two large armchairs on one side of the lobby. His small drone left his hand, floating up into the depths of the lobby’s tall ceiling, Xanthe quickly losing sight of it.
“Do you think that Deckran may be trouble?” She asked, once they were moving towards the elevators, on the opposite side of the lobby. Instinctively she reached into her bag and re-adjusted the concealed pistol, which after last night she was sure to pack.
“I don’t think it hurts to be too careful,” Rigby replied. “We still don’t know Deckran’s level of involvement.”
“Fair enough.” They entered the first available elevator, keying in the fourth floor. Upon reaching it they were greeted by the option of a left or right corridor, a digital placard indicating which rooms were in which direction. They made a left and then another, coming to a halt just outside of room 4033. Rigby readjusted her hat, did a once-over of the hallway, and raised a fist to knock on the door.
The first knock had no effect. Xanthe didn’t catch any movement on the other side of the room, and nobody seemed to notice. It was the second that gained them some bit of movement, as someone walked up to the door, paused as they undoubtedly checked who was standing at their door, then spoke. “Who is it?” A voice demanded from a speaker mounted just beside the door.
“Good afternoon Mr. Deckran, my name is Judith Rigby. We need to speak with you, and were told by some mutual friends that the word ‘hummingbird’ should mean something to you.” The door suddenly swung open a small crack, revealing the suspicious eye of a tanned-skin Human man. From the heavily sculpted style of his dark hair, Xanthe could immediately recognize a corporate type. He stared at them from luminescent blue eyes, clearly not his natural color. It was just as well that this millionaire spent his fortune on cybernetics.
“I’ve never seen you before,” He was quick to counter. “You some sort of new recruits?” He did a once-over of their garb. “You dress strangely for FedSec agents.”
“That’s because we aren’t with the Federal Security Bureau,” Rigby replied. “We’re working on a different matter, but they agreed to help us out. We’d like to speak with you, Mr. Deckran.”
Deckran didn’t respond immediately, instead allowing his digital eyes to continue to stare at them. Trying to run them through his company’s extensive enemy lists, Xanthe had no doubt. “That’s peculiar. FedSec doesn’t usually play ball with outside contractors.” He replied, presumably having deduced they had no official governmental role whatsoever.
“These are strange days,” Rigby replied. “And we both have common interests.”
“You still haven’t told me what this is about.” Deckran persisted.
“We just have a few questions we’d like to ask you about the Senate hearings last week.” Rigby replied.
All at once, Xanthe saw weariness seep into Deckran’s features. “Are you from the press? Our press representatives already said that we have nothing further to add at this time about the incident at Samatria. The hearings are finished, and at this point no wrongdoing was found on our part.” He went to close the door. “Now, if you will excuse me…”
Rigby gently placed a hand on the door. “Mr. Deckran, we aren’t with the press, but we do need to talk about the hearings. Please, an innocent life depends on this information.”
That got Deckran’s attention, as he re-opened the door to that slit. “Whose life?”
“Can we come in and discuss this? It isn’t exactly something to be discussed in the hallway of a hotel.” The Captain suggested.
Deckran gave them one more long pause of silence, as he weighed his options. Eventually, he relented, the door swinging open to reveal a spacious suite. “Very well. You have the FedSec code I was given, and Agent Dent was very insistent I speak with anyone who had the code word.” From the derision hinting that last part, his opinion of FedSec was clear.
“Thank you,” Rigby replied, walking past Deckran and into the suite. When Xanthe went to follow, the man blocked her way.
“And you?” He asked. “Who are you supposed to be?”
“My name is Xanthe,” She replied, giving him a forced smile. The look in the man’s eyes gave her a brief pause, though she had seen it countless times before. He had a particularly negative opinion of Quorthwenne.
Deckran looked between Xanthe and Rigby, the latter noticing their host’s hesitation. “Your kind don’t tend to just ‘stop by’ for a chat. Is this some sort of setup?”
Xanthe crossed her arms and frowned, contorting her facial expression into one purposely lopsided, a surefire way to make those who distrusted the Quorthwenne squirm. “’My kind’ are citizens all the same, and we aren’t all the same.”
“It’s alright,” Rigby assured Deckran. “We aren’t here for anything other than a chat.”
“Right,” Deckran replied. “I once knew a tech for another company whose identity was stolen by one of you Quorthwenne. Didn’t turn out too well for him or his company.”
“I don’t shapeshift into men, if that makes you feel any better.” Xanthe offered scornfully.
“It doesn’t, really.”
Rigby returned to the door. “Please Mr. Deckran, we assure you that we have no other motivation here than to talk. FedSec knows we’re here, so any subterfuge we may try would be discovered immediately.”
Deckran held Xanthe in a hard stare. “Fine.” He relented, allowing her into the suite. “But I reserve the right to get the security series on the line if I don’t like anything you have to say.”
“Whatever makes you feel better,” Xanthe bit out as she stalked past him.
Xanthe followed the Captain as they walked further into the suite, immediately assailed by that familiar gaudiness in the décor of these large suites. She always wondered what interior designers planned rooms like this, and why the prevailing style for such suites always seemed to universally grab a few poorly-made replicas of artifacts from a smattering of different cultures, throwing them together into a room that communicated no common theme.
This suite was no different, throwing off the hunting lodge theming the rest of the resort was decorated in, instead replacing it with some mish-mash of High Dorylaetian and Talosian styles. The large porcelain vases flanking the main door – neither holding anything remotely resembling a plant – were from the former style, while most of the artwork was a poor reconstruction of the latter style.
“What a disaster,” Xanthe muttered, catching a grin from the Captain as they continued through the room. They came out of the entranceway and into the main bulk of the suite, a large sprawling space combining kitchen and lounge, with a modest dining area at the center. All around the far wall was a large window, curtains parted to reveal another one of the three towers on the other side of a large courtyard. A balcony ran the length of this window, where a hot tub was bubbling, clearly Deckran’s intended activity before they showed up.
“Now, what’s this about?” The man demanded, coming to a stop just a few meters from that large window. His wary gaze still fell on Xanthe, but he didn’t bring that up again. “Who’s life is in danger, and what does it have to do with the hearing?”
“The daughter of Senator Dimas Sethell is missing – likely kidnapped.” Rigby replied, point-blankly. Xanthe stared hard at Deckran, seeing the man tense up suddenly as the words left the Captain’s lips. His head snapped immediately to his two guests.
“Euphemia Sethell?” He demanded, a certain strange quality to his voice. “Kidnapped?”
“That’s right,” Rigby replied. “And our information tells us that on the last day of the Samatria Hearings, you offered what could be considered a threat to the senators assembled.” Deckran’s face held his surprise at the first tidbit of information, as his brain worked to process that second. As the reality of the accusation dawned on him, his artificial eyes screwed up into thin lines.
“Are you insinuating that I had something to do with this?”
Rigby shrugged. “I just want to know where the girl went. And given she’s a very outspoken opponent of your company and her father was part of the committee looking into your possible wrongdoings, that threat caught our attention.”
“I had nothing to do with any of this!” Deckran shot back, sharply. “Euphemia Sethell has a lot of devoted followers, and I will admit that every time she opens her mouth, it’s a PR nightmare for JekWare.” He began packing back and forth in the sunlight. “But I swear to you, I know nothing about her disappearance!”
“And what you said at the hearing?” Xanthe asked. The man’s cool eyes fell on her.
Deckran sigh, rubbing his face. “It had been a long day,” He admitted. “The whole week had been one ten-hour session after another. I was simply tired and a bit cranky. Not my finest hour, I assure you.” There was something in his face – a persistent tightness in his jaw, the tensing of his muscles – which told Xanthe that wasn’t all of it.
Rigby picked up on this too, as she didn’t relent. “Impatience or not, it was still an odd thing to say to a room full of senators. Especially senators who hold your company’s fate in their hands.”
“We had nothing to do with that ship attack; it was all an accident,” The man said, rehashing a line with the finesse of someone who had been used to giving it.
“Sure,” Rigby replied. “And I’m also sure it was pretty frustrating to have a room full of politicians who hired your company to design said weapons criticizing the work you did.” Xanthe crossed her arms, smiling in spite of herself. She ran a look between the Captain and Hontaro Deckran, seeing that her taunt was already getting to him.
Deckran paused his pacing, turning a hard look on Rigby. “Of course it was frustrating!” He hissed. “Sethell, Kran, Shetevh, Baroncelli…they all sponsored JekWare to design weapons for their precious Entente, and then when something goes wrong – which is always a possibility – they blame us. Not one ounce of loyalty. Not one ounce of respect!” His voice had risen considerably as he spoke, but he seemed to catch himself.
“So you threatened them?” Xanthe asked.
“That’s right,” Deckran said. “Those fools think they can do what they want, conveniently forgetting that we know things that could end their career,” He snapped his fingers. “Like that.”
Xanthe looked to the Captain to persist in the line of questioning, but it seemed like Rigby’s attention was suddenly summoned elsewhere. “Such as?” Xanthe asked for her.
“I’ve worked with FedSec…I know who’s on the take, who has secret mistresses, who’s hiding illegitimate children. I know each one of their weak points.”
“Or whose problematic child you can have kidnapped?” Xanthe asked. Deckran seemed insulted by that insinuation.
“I had nothing to do with the Sethell girl’s disappearance.” He insisted.
“Really?” Xanthe persisted. “You expect us to believe that?”
“Believe what you want,” Deckran replied. “I didn’t…”
“Down!”
Xanthe barely had time to register the sudden exclamation, as the full weight of the Captain’s body slammed into her, sending her downward. As Xanthe collided with the floor, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the suite. A sea of glass from one of the large, paneled balcony windows came crashing down upon the floor, followed by a distant *crack*. Dazed, Xanthe’s focus was just starting to come back when she caught sight of Hontaro Deckran, having caught the Captain’s warning a moment too late. The man was staring down at his chest, a look of surprise in his eyes, as he took notice of the four holes now peppering the left side of his chest. The man fell first to his knees before eventually slamming face-first to the floor.
“No!” Xanthe cried, her first instinct to crawl over and attempt to offer some sort of first aid.
“Wait!” Came Rigby’s clear and firm command, the Captain’s full weight still pinning the lower half of Xanthe’s body. “The shooter’s got four more shots. He wants you to try and save him.” Grabbing her hat, Rigby pulled it offer head and tossed it across the open space over Deckran’s fallen form. Sure enough, the itchy-fingered sniper let loose four tightly spaced shots, all missing the hat. No sooner did the shots stop, than Rigby leapt to her feet, one pistol in hand. She dashed to the balcony, as Xanthe shook away her daze and crawled over to Deckran’s side. The man laid unmoving, eyes wide open and staring at nothing. His entire chest was a mess of red, blood mixed with some of his insides from the high-powered round. Even from the distance, the sniper had managed to hit the man square in his heart.
“Lord have mercy…” She muttered, placing a trembling hand against Deckran’s neck. There wasn’t even the faintest hint of a pulse. Hontaro Deckran was dead. Xanthe crossed herself.
“Captain…” Xanthe muttered, her mouth dry. Even the quick action of checking the man’s pulse had drenched her hands in Deckran’s blood, and she had to focus to avoid the sudden rush of emotion at the sight of the dead man. “He’s…”
“…that’s right,” Came Rigby’s intense voice, as she ran back into the suite, coming to a halt at Deckran’s feet. “One shooter, fifth floor of the south-most building. See if you can get eyes on him; I imagine he’ll be in a hurry but trying to look casual.” She turned her attention from what was likely a channel with Brex, staring first to Deckran, then to Xanthe. They had only to share a single look to communicate that the man was dead. It was the Captain’s turn to cross herself.
“Come on,” She said, that battle-ready command suddenly out of her voice as she returned to her usual even tone. “The sniper is going to try and get away, and we can’t let him do that.”
“But…” Xanthe turned an eye on the body. “We can’t just leave him here like this.”
Rigby came to Deckran’s other side, knelt down, and reached a hand to his face. She closed his eyes, muttering something low under her breath. At the end of this momentary prayer, Rigby crossed herself again and Xanthe followed suit. Now back to her feet and that seriousness back in her countenance, she waved for Xanthe to follow. “We’ll come back once we get our killer.” That was it; Rigby was out the door a moment later, Xanthe offering one sorrowful look on the slain executive before she ran to catch up.
Not wanting to deal with the elevator, Rigby led Xanthe to one of the emergency staircases, charging down to the ground level and out into the brisk afternoon. As they charged out into the daylight, they were met with groups of people running away from the second building, most likely having heard the gunshots for what they were. Rigby pushed through the crowd and Xanthe kept as close as possible.
“Please tell me you’ve picked up something, Six!” Rigby exclaimed. Xanthe hit the button on her wrist, looping her aural implant into the channel.
“My drone is just getting into position above the target building,” Brextallor’s response came. “Romanov City Protection Forces have already requested that I deactivate and wait for their arrival.” That would be standard procedure – as soon as the police were alerted to the shooting, they would order any civilian drones out of the crime scene.
“How much time do we have?” Xanthe asked.
“Ten minutes at most.” Another group of somewhat hysterical tourists poured out of the main entrance of the building at the same second an alarm started blaring from the structure. “The fire alarm has been activated in building two.”
“We see it,” Rigby replied. “He’s hoping to blend in with the crowd.” They came to an uneasy stop.
“That’s assuming he’s looking to use a conventional exit,” Xanthe replied.
“He will,” Rigby replied. “He’ll want to look like just any other guest.” Xanthe scanned the crowd, as if to pick the assassin out of the group. It was a nearly-impossible attempt, as she had no idea what she was looking for.
“I suppose there’s no chance he’ll just come running out with a rifle, will he?” She asked. Xanthe grinned at her own joke, before she froze, the smile disappearing. An idea had just come to her. “Wait…he’ll need to get the rifle out with him, right?
Rigby, who looked like she was on that same wavelength, nodded. “He’ll need some sort of bag, or a set of bags if he dismantled it.”
“Or a suitcase,” Xanthe muttered, as she caught several of the fleeing tourists with just such bags.
“Six, can you focus in on someone alone, who has a pair of suitcases? Maybe a baggage carrier?” Rigby asked.
“Copy that,” Brex replied.
“Why a baggage carrier?” Xanthe asked. “Wouldn’t that be a bit too conspicuous?”
Rigby shook her head. “Not if he’s dressed the part. Those gunshots were from a Westar 994, and that isn’t a small rifle. Even dismantled, you’d need at least three bags.”
“There is a bellhop at your nine o’clock.” Brex announced. Xanthe looked right in that direction, seeing a Dorylaetian dressed in a uniform for the Duvelli Lodge, a luggage carrier filled to the brim with suitcases. As he came further into view, they could see a small family of Freelysh hurrying beside him.
“Not it,” Rigby replied.
“Wait!” Xanthe cried suddenly, catching sight of another bellhop in uniform across the plaza. This one had just exited from a side door, dragging his luggage carrier out, timed suspiciously close to when a group of Dorylaetian ran past. “Over there!”
“That’s him,” Rigby said assuredly, straying to move very quickly in that direction. Xanthe, not expecting the Captain’s sudden assurance, struggled to keep up.
“He has three bags on his cart,” Brex replied. The Dorylaetian group which he had ducked behind moved out of the way, revealing the bellhop as a Parfful male, hurrying away from the building, but in the complete opposite direction from the rest of the fleeing crowds.
“Careful,” Rigby muttered, pulling her pistol back out, concealing it inside her coat. “We don’t want to spook him.” They gained a few meters on the Parfful, Rigby leading Xanthe into a crowd going in the opposite direction as cover. The Parfful did a scan of the surrounding area as he continued away from the building but didn’t see them. Xanthe reached for her own gun; glad she had decided not to come unprepared this time.
“What’s our strategy?” Xanthe asked, as they moved in on their target.
“If it comes to shooting, watch your shots. We need him alive.” Rigby replied.
Xanthe gulped. Something told her that this assassin wouldn’t give them the same courtesy. “Agreed.”
“City police will be here any minute now,” Brex announced.
“Do you still have eyes?” Rigby asked.
“They have not started jamming this area, yet.” Brex confirmed. Which was good, because somehow the Parfful turned very suddenly in their direction, and locked eyes with them. He threw all caution to the wind, leaving his luggage carrier behind and sprinting across the plaza.
“Damn it!” Rigby hissed, taking off after him.
“So much for not spooking him!” Xanthe replied, recalling how poorly the previous night’s stealthy escape had gone. At least they were the ones doing the chasing, this time.
“Target is on the move,” Brex announced.
“You think?” Xanthe shot back, as she shoved past a man who had caught sight of this odd event, stopping right in her path.
“Where is he heading?” Rigby asked, as the Parfful made a sudden turn.
“From his direction? He seems to be moving towards building three; the north one.” Indeed, as they mimicked the turn, the third of the Duvelli Lodge towers laid out right in front of them. There were a series of cracking noises as the Parfful aimed a pistol back their way, but his speed and poor angle meant that the shots went helplessly wide. It did have the added effect of alerting the crowds at this side of the resort to the danger, however, starting the pandemonium anew. The assassin shoved past one group throwing an old Human woman to the ground.
“He is entering the building!” Brex announced, as they watched the assassin do just that; charge into the lobby of building three.
“Keep an eye on the other side,” Xanthe said. “He’s probably going to come out the other side.”
“No,” Rigby was quick to counter. “He’s going to try and find somewhere to hide. Six, how many staircases does this building have?”
“Two,” Brextallor replied. “It’s smaller than the main building, and has one set on either side, east and west.” They entered the lobby, which was indeed much smaller and not nearly as grand as the first one.
“There!” Rigby pointed, indicating the door to the side-staircase which had just slammed closed. “He’s going up. You go up the other one, and head him off.” She nodded to Xanthe, then down the opposite hallway.
“Right,” Xanthe replied. She tore down the hallway to the door which led to the second staircase, hurrying up.
“He’s at the third floor,” Rigby’s voice came in her ear. “I think he’s heading for the roof.”
“Roof?” Xanthe asked, coming to the second floor herself. “But he has nowhere else to go!” And, she didn’t need to add, there weren’t nearly as many hiding places on the roof as on any of the other floors.
“He could be looking to take the other staircase back down, so he can double back,” Rigby replied. “Watch yourself, Five.”
“Copy,” Xanthe came to the fifth floor, reaching the narrower staircase which led to the roof access. Gun in one hand, she slowed her pace, coming slowly to the rooftop door. When nobody immediately came running out of it, she took a breath said a prayer, and continued out onto the roof herself. Gun raised, she stepped back out into the brisk daylight. To her surprise she caught sight of the assassin immediately. The Parfful, still dressed in the outfit of a bellhop, stood at the edge of the roof, gun in one hand as he stared out over the mountainside descent to Romanov City, below. He didn’t so much as twitch at Xanthe’s approach, which she was certain he heard.
“Magnificent view, isn’t it?” It was the assassin, his voice coming out unexpectedly soft and boyish.
“Drop your gun!” Xanthe commanded, trying to make herself sound authoritative. “Now!”
“I always liked the mountains,” The assassin replied, ignoring the command. “My mother used to take me to resorts just like this as a child, and we used to watch the sunset over the peaks of the mountains.”
At that moment, Captain Rigby crashed onto the rooftop, her own weapon leveled at the assassin’s back. “Drop it!” She commanded, echoing Xanthe’s earlier order. The assassin’s shoulders only rose slightly before dropping, as if in sigh.
“I hadn’t expected our mutual friend to have visitors today; I almost had to shoot you, too. I knew that hat toss was a trick; I just wanted you to be sure I wasn’t gunning for you.”
“Who are you?” Rigby demanded.
“We may talk soon,” The Parfful replied. “I wish you good luck.” With that the gun fell out of his hand. Rigby wasted no time in rushing over to the Parfful, expecting the assassin to attempt a jump. He didn’t jump, however, instead recoiling suddenly and collapsing to the deck of the roof.
“No!” Rigby cried. Xanthe’s heart skipped a beat, as she remembered what Andara had said about the other assassins they’d run across, and the strange sudden deaths they suffered. The Captain knelt beside the assassin, Xanthe suddenly seeing the Parfful’s body recoil again, a clawed hand reaching up and snatching Rigby’s collar in a tight grip.
“Captain!” Xanthe cried, leveling her weapon.
“Stop!” Rigby ordered, holding her hand out. The assassin seemed to mutter something to the Captain, before going limp. The hand fell back to his side.
Xanthe, lowering her gun, slowly made her way over to him. “Is he…”
“Dead,” Rigby said, softly. Xanthe could now get a good look at the assassin, noticing that he did not yet have the familiar beard-like tassels of a fully-grown Parfful male.
“He’s…young,” Xanthe muttered,.
“Don’t you recognize him?” Rigby asked. Xanthe squinted at the Captain’s strange question.
“What?” She studied the Parfful again, trying to place a name to the face, but was certain she hadn’t ever seen this being before. “I…no.”
Rigby slowly turned her eyes to look at Xanthe, and when she did, Xanthe’s blood turned to ice at the haunted expression on the Captain’s face. “This is Ranshal Korgwesh. This is the other missing senator’s kid.”
