Office of the President, Megalodon City, Tundra, Standard Year 404 after founding

  “Please see if Robert Nagar is available.” James Hawk said into his comm, before leaning back in his chair tiredly. They were coming upon the most critical point in the war. Tundra’s absolute victory was within their grasp and yet, if they failed now, if Sarayan tactics changed in time, utter defeat was still a possibility. They stood on the knife’s edge, and none of them could afford to be distracted. The matter of lieutenant Alanna Summers had to be resolved now, before the distraction caused greater harm. With a shake of his head, he went back to reading reports from the front, putting the matter out of his mind entirely.

  “Robert Nagar is on his way.” His secretary’s voice came through the comm a while later.

  Jim Hawk got up to greet his friend, shaking his hand before heading to the small refrigerator in the back of his office and pulling out two bottles of beer. “Thank you for coming late, and on such short notice.” He handed Robert one of the bottles before sitting back down, not bothering to hide the exhaustion on his face.

  “Of course.” Robert nodded politely, picking up the beer.

  “I need advice.” Jim Hawk got straight to the point.

  “Alanna Summers?” Robert guessed.

  “Have you given the matter some thought?” Jim responded.

  “Based on the report I received, it appears she managed to win over Commander Tony Sicaro. I understand your frustration.”

  “We were also mistaken about the guards. Based on Tony’s report, she was protected by three guards, not one. That is quite a miscalculation on our part. And the dog.” He added.

  “A prison dog attacked a guard to protect a prisoner?” Robert asked, a note of surprise creeping into his usual dour voice.

  “So did the other guards.” Jim Hawk said drily. “And based on Tony’s limp, I tend to believe his story about the dog.”

  Robert nodded, accepting the facts as they were presented. “The initial report came from Major Ray Miller. He did mention it was ‘to the best of his knowledge.’ Based on my own sources, there are currently two guards on active duty on that floor. And yet she was protected by three? That is indeed unexpected. Perhaps the Hodgins boy called in a friend for help? It is also possible, although unlikely, that the guard who was reassigned at James’s request returned to help. We can clarify, if needed.”

  “I would be curious to know, but it’s not a top priority. Robert, I failed twice.” Jim said bluntly. “I need a second opinion from a trusted source. Is there anything here that I’ve missed?”

  Robert Nagar took a drink of his beer and looked out the window, considering the situation. Nondescript civilian clothing covered his somewhat broad shoulders and his face was narrow and unexpectedly youthful for his age and overall demeanor. His voice came out slightly hollow and slow, as if he were watching the world go by from a distance. Robert Nagar, was not a happy man. “Your goal is to ensure Tundra’s future by paving the path for James to take over upon your retirement.” He said slowly. “And you see Lieutenant Summers as an obstacle. Based on your actions so far, I believe you see her removal as the only path to achieve your goal.”

  “There is only one path.”

  Robert took another sip of his beer, taking his time before responding. “No Jim, there are at least two.”

  “There is only…” Jim paused. “And you genuinely believe this? That there are two paths?”

  “Logically, there are two paths. Whether either path is viable is not yet clear.”

  Jim Hawk leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “And my strategy, to date, has only accounted for one of the two possible outcomes. You are right as always, my friend. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome.”

  Jim nodded, taking another drink from his bottle. “How have you been, Robert?” He asked, somewhat unexpectedly.

  “As always.” He said shortly.

  “Is there… is there anything that you need?” Jim asked.

  “Not a thing.”

  Jim Hawk studied him thoughtfully. “And under all that logic, do I sense an entirely unexpected streak of… what shall I call it? Are you a secret romantic, Rob?”

  Rob’s eyebrows went up noticeably. “Couldn’t say, Jim” He responded flatly.

  “I’ve never known you to take an interest. Has there ever been anyone?”

  Robert paused, surprise evident on his face. He had never known Jim Hawk to ask a personal question. A dozen answers flew through his mind, each a perfectly polite way to change the subject and make it clear that this particular topic, was off limits. The silence stretched on as for a long moment, neither man was sure whether a response was forthcoming. “She died.” Robert Nagar said finally, his voice perfectly flat and devoid of emotion.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Jim responded, studying his friend with some concern.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Do you ever think there might be someone else?”

  “No.” Robert answered in that same flat voice. “Not for me. Do you need anything else?”

  “I have everything I need, thank you. Good night, Robert.”

  ---

  Robert was driving home when he received a text from Daren. Not a quantum communication or even an encrypted call, but a text. With a puzzled frown, he noted that what came through was a video attachment, with no accompanying explanation. After only the briefest hesitation, he pressed play.

  “Your name is Jane Thomson?” A voice asked.

  “Why not?” A woman’s voice responded.

  Hands resting carefully on his steering wheel, Robert listened until the video came to an end. The words “they are coming” echoed through the compact vehicle. With barely a pause, he programmed in Daren’s Sarayan number. They could all communicate via the same encrypted channels available to humans, but they rarely did. Using radio waves, it was currently about an eight minute lag between Tundra and Saraya. It would take Robert another fifteen minutes to get home. He wasn’t willing to wait. “Do not investigate.” He said. “I repeat, do not investigate. And whatever you do, don’t go in without goddamn backup!” He hissed.

  Disconnecting, he dialed Grant. “Did he send it to you too?”

  “He did.” Grant said, his rumbling deep voice perfectly neutral.

  “My apartment. Now.” Robert said shortly.

  Fifteen minutes later, tires squealing, Robert backed his car into its assigned spot in the underground garage and headed upstairs to his apartment, to contact Will. “I don’t want to contact you via any human channels.” Robert said a few minutes later, sitting in his kitchen with the quantum comm unit in front of him. “Did he send it to you too?”

  “Of course.” Will confirmed.

  “I told Daren not to go in.”

  There was a slight pause. “I know where Jonno’s is.” Will said, a note of bemusement creeping in. “Robert, with respect, I’m going to head straight there.”

  Robert hissed quietly. “Fine.” He said. “And William?”

  “Yes?”

  “If I end up any more dead than I already am, you’re in charge. Not Daren. Are we clear?”

  There was another slight pause. “And Grant?”

  “You have your orders.” Robert said shortly, looking up at the sound of his doorbell.

  “Come in.” He opened the door before heading back towards his kitchen.

  Grant walked in, looking around curiously. Unlike his own oversized kitchen, customized to his exacting specifications, Robert’s kitchen was completely standard. The apartment building was high end and the fixtures it came with were quality, but entirely generic and uninspiring. Glossy black tundran wood cabinets reflected the light of the fire from the fireplace under the window. Gray, poured concrete countertops were empty and spotless, likely because they were never used. The muted sound of snow and ice hitting the window and the soft hiss of the fire were the only sounds in the small kitchen. Grant sat in one of the oversized gray leather chairs flanking the fireplace. It was a tight and somewhat precarious fit for his large frame, but preliminarily, the chair appeared to be holding. “To what do I owe this honor?” He asked. He had never been inside of Robert’s home before. They always met in the garden.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Time is short and privacy is paramount.” Robert moved around the kitchen with easy grace, making two cups of coffee and placing them on the table before settling down in front of the fire, fed by the nearly endless supply of natural gas underneath Tundra. “Is there anything you’d care to tell me?” He asked, turning to Grant.

  So. Grant leaned back in the chair, ignoring the creak as his weight strained the frame. “In regard to the video?”

  “Would you care to discuss the weather instead?” Robert asked mildly, settling into his chair. “Tell me how you and John are still doing fine?”

  “Her pupils were dilated.” Grant observed. “Far beyond the norm.”

  “A known and common side effect of Sarayan interrogation drugs.” Robert noted. The impatience was gone now, his eyes were entirely focused on Grant, his body relaxed. Robert, was in full interrogation mode.

  Grant shrugged. “When I look at her, I see someone who has been drugged, and may not be a reliable witness. Do you foresee this receiving a great deal of attention? Do we even know how Daren came by the recording?”

  “It’s Daren’s job to know these things.” Robert said with a slight, bitter smile.

  “And has Daren implied that someone on Saraya took note of the interrogation? On its face Robert, it rather looks like the ramblings of a drugged madwoman.”

  “A charismatic madwoman. Historically, these things have a tendency to blow up in our face. But let us forget about the infamously xenophobic humans, just for a moment. You see, there is a question that I have, Grant. One Daren has apparently not yet thought to ask.”

  “What’s that, Robert?”

  “My question, is this: what in the goddamn hell is she doing here?”

  Grant hesitated. “I really couldn’t say.”

  “Really? Couldn’t you? May I suggest you try harder?”

  “I really couldn’t say.” Grant repeated, his voice flat as he looked out into the fire.

  “I see.” Robert nodded. In some ways, Carda’ans were easier. Unlike humans, they rarely lied. “We’ve both been here a long time.” Robert observed.

  “Yes.”

  “And there are very few of us. I’m a busy man, Grant. When it comes to theft, I’ve been known to look the other way. Chasing down thieves is not directly within my job description.”

  “I certainly take your point.” Grant said politely, taking a sip of his espresso and watching as a well fed orange tabby wandered into the kitchen. The cat was not new. They had met before, in the garden. With a possessive meow, the tomcat jumped up and settled its not insubstantial bulk onto his lap, further straining the frame of the chair.

  Robert looked at them both glumly. “You’re going to break the damn chair.” He said with a sigh, interrupting his own train of thought.

  Grant remained silent, looking out into the fire as he stroked the cat. Soaking in the warmth, the cat purred in contentment.

  “She said ‘he’, Grant.”

  “I heard.”

  “Not they.”

  “The audio quality on the clip was excellent.” Grant agreed.

  “If I find out something other than theft happened here, I will not look the other way. Not our history, not our friendship, not even Tigger’s inordinate fondness of you, will change that.”

  Grant cocked his head slightly, narrowed eyes staring into the fire. “I didn’t realize there was a friendship, Robert.” He said, his voice rumbling quietly in his chest.

  “It will not matter. Not if you broke a bond.”

  Placing the cat carefully onto the floor, Grant got up. The arms of his chair creaked painfully as he leaned in to push his bulk upwards.

  Robert looked up, his eyes inscrutable. Of course, he would not flinch or move away from a potential threat. He was dead.

  “Sometimes it all goes wrong, Robert.” Grant said, his voice surprisingly soft. “The bond, sacred though it may be, sometimes it all goes wrong.”

  “It’s not our place to say.” Robert responded, swiveling his chair to follow Grant as he walked towards the darkened entryway. “And certainly not yours.”

  “The male half of a corrupted bond may not be dead, but you and I both know the illness is terminal. It is only a matter of time.”

  “Perhaps.” Robert said, his eyes glowing softly in the darkened, flame lit room. “And yet, it is not your place to say. Not your place to say what is wrong, not your place to say what is corrupted, and not your place to ever, ever interfere. And not I, not Daren, not Will, not a single one of us in this solar system or outside of it, will look the other way if you broke a bond, Grant.”

  “Good night, Robert.” Grant said, turning to walk out the door.

  “Wait.” Robert called out.

  Grant paused, his back still turned.

  “There’s a prisoner on the Sarayan floor of Dragon City Penitentiary. That’s the fourteenth floor.” He elaborated. “Her name is Alanna Summers. And I want to see the DNA profile.”

  “And what would you like me to do?” Grant asked, turning back with some reluctance. “Go commando and steal her DNA?”

  “Yes.” Robert said shortly, before turning his head back towards the fire.

  Very carefully, Grant caged his hands in front of himself, fingertips touching and nails carefully pressed one against the other. “This is not what I do.” He said.

  “Wonderful. After you’re finished, you can return to not doing it.”

  Grant focused on breathing. He was perfectly calm and in control. He was a civilized, sentient being and one of the most brilliant, perhaps the most brilliant physicist of his generation. He would… He could… He turned back around, heading in the general direction of the door, groping for the handle past the yellow cloud of rage blocking his vision.

  Robert watched Grant walk somewhat unsteadily out the door before getting up from his chair and carefully pulling two claws out of the wooden frame of his doorway. Five deep gouges marred the wooden frame, as if a Tundran bear had barged into his kitchen and left his mark before getting pulled back out. Based on the extent of the damage, the entire board would need to be replaced. He sighed. They simply didn’t have the manpower to handle current events. Dzaher would be coming soon, but perhaps it was time to give some of the others stationed with the cannibals the good news about their reassignment. After all, what was the point of watching the cannibals? Once the novelty of the cruelty and sadism wore off, it all became quite tedious. As a civilization, they were clearly headed towards extinction.

  ---

  “And whatever you do, don’t go in without goddamn backup!” Robert’s voice came in through his speakers as Daren played the end of the message. He raised an eyebrow at the tone. The rain was still pouring down. It had been going all week. The storm season was unusually bad this year, and intermittent flooding kept people off the roads. It was Sunday night. All in all, Jonno’s establishment wasn’t likely to be hosting many guests this evening. Clearly, it was time to go for a bit of a drive.

  Jonno’s establishment was legendary. The location itself had over a century of history behind it. It was housed within two trees fused together, forming a twisted tower reaching out towards the sky. Inside, every surface of the soft golden wood had been polished to a smooth shine. The opulent furniture ran towards velvet and silk in shades of gold, cream and red. The cooling system was impeccable and a pleasantly cool breeze brushed Daren’s naked skin as he walked in, his skin taking on the golden tinge of the wood and the textured red velvet of a recliner sitting under a window. It was also, as Daren had suspected, relatively deserted. A woman with tumbling golden hair was reading, or perhaps merely appeared to be reading, while perched on a chair under the window. A dark skinned brunette sat across from her, seemingly engrossed in a complex puzzle, the corners of a jungle scene emerging from the chaos of tiny pieces strewn across the table. Soft, classical music played in the background.

  Daren had always liked the place, but when Talia retired and Jonno took over, it became something more. The girls in the front were there for fun, for the less discerning customer. Most of the real business happened on the net, and in the back rooms. Jonno offered something completely unique in the business – safety and transparency. If you booked a girl online, you were guaranteed to get that exact girl. If someone claimed to be a trained classical pianist, you would get a trained, classical pianist. If someone claimed to be a licensed therapist, that was what you would get. And if a customer got violent beyond the bounds of what had been agreed upon ahead of time, or forgot to pay, Jonno would take care of it. Theoretically, it was a simple enough business model. But it took a great deal of skill to implement effectively. In the several centuries Daren had spent among humans, he had never seen anyone manage it more effectively than Jonno Summers.

  Which was why Daren didn’t even bother to talk anyone into giving him access to Jane. He walked the halls, invisible, until he managed to find the rooms housing support staff. He was near the top of the tree now, and each floor grew narrower, with four doors per level. The space was relatively plain, serviceable and clean. Quite different from the opulent atmosphere below. Unfortunately, because of the narrowing size of the tree, the public space between the four doors was tight. Daren was concerned that if someone were walking into their apartment, he may not be able to avoid them. He was invisible, but certainly not incorporeal. Bumping into someone would be exceedingly awkward. Just as he had that thought, he overheard the sound of light steps coming up the stairs. The private elevator banks used by the more high end clientele did not run this high up the tree, leaving the residents to walk the rest of the way. Daren glanced around the tight platform as the steps grew closer.

  At the last minute, he silently jumped down over the railing of the stairs, hanging down as the owner of those light steps paused at the top of the stairwell. And indeed, as good or perhaps bad luck would have it, it was the woman who called herself Jane Thomson. Dangling, Daren held his breath as she paused, looking around hesitantly. His hands tightened on the railing, which was thankfully solidly constructed. The pull of his weight on the seemingly delicate spindles, made almost no sound. Daren winced as his hands began to ache at the unaccustomed exercise. And yet Jane stood there, those stunning blue eyes narrowed slightly. Finally, with a slight shake of her head, she walked into her apartment. Daren breathed a slow sigh of relief, clambering with some awkwardness back onto the stairwell. Feeling quite sheepish, he walked back to his car, and his clothes. It was somewhat comforting really, to know he was not yet too old for such acrobatics, and for running around whorehouses naked. The whole thing should have been a great deal more fun than it was.

  The trouble with being a chameleon, was that it didn’t work if you were wearing clothes. The only respectable way for Daren to go back in, was fully clothed and with a legitimate reason to be on the premises. Of course, he could simply book a session and walk on upstairs. The administrative floors were not subject to any additional guards or security, as far as he saw. There was only one slight problem: Jonno would know it was him. And, like so many others, Jonno was not an enemy Daren wanted to make. Daren looked up the thick, twisting trunks of the two intertwined trees. Theoretically, the twists and turns of the trunk would make for excellent hand and footholds. Theoretically. Just how much did he care about remaining in the good graces of Jonno’s establishment?

  With a deep sigh of regret, Daren bundled his most essential clothes into a small bag, bent over it awkwardly and walked over to the tree. Facing the tree with the bag wedged against his chest and outwardly invisible, he began climbing. Making his way up to what he vaguely thought was the right floor, he broke a window and climbed inside, glancing around briefly to ensure the space was deserted, before letting his skin take on its customary human texture and getting dressed. Walking silently across the small space, Daren knocked on the door of the woman whose name may or may not be Jane Thomson.

  “Come in.” She called out, and Daren blinked, momentarily struck by the force of that voice in real life. He opened the door. “Good afternoon. I…” The world went black.