Chapter 12: “Rockrateers’ Reception”
The “rockrat bash” was indeed a fancy “do,” and though the raid participants were the official honorees, there were many invited guests from nearly all divisions of the company, as well as delegations from a wide cross-section of merchandising concerns, representative of technical and commercial interests throughout the galaxy. The buffet had been supplied to accommodate a few thousand, and they were already running low when Valkarr arrived.
It was his habit to arrive later than the masses, but tonight he was farther behind schedule than even he liked. There had been snags setting up his holo-link with Bellran, and for all the time he’d spent at the civic comm-center, he’d only the briefest of sessions with Marsy.
At least they got to take care of some business. He was advised of some of her doings, and he got to “OK” a couple of matters requiring his signet. He also committed to a visit home, after the next mission to Zamlon—whether the job was finished or not.
The party was wild and loud, typical of such affairs which gave official license to hybrid company/Cyncorian behavior. Meandering through the swilling sea for half an hour, he had waded around the various islands of ideological agendas, and hadn’t a clue how to find his party. There were sale copies of visuals he’d missed, and he ordered a couple sent to his docking bay address. Morning delivery was promised.
An entire circuit of the spacious hall, taking in many adjoining alcoves, yielded no sign of his mates. He returned to the refreshment stand nearest his entrance for another mug of hemsflet extract, hoping to converse again with the gorgeous Irsadite vendor. She hadn’t seen his party either, though she’d been wearing Valkarr’s hom-loc tag.
He was about to ask her out, when he heard Cara call to him from somewhere in, or beyond the throng; he couldn’t tell. The vendor watched intently as Cara embraced the Journeyman and gave him a very romantic-looking kiss. Immediately behind her came Faldon and the Juanian maiden.
Valkarr introduced Cara, who gave the astonished Irsadite the same sort of kiss she’d given her Craftsman.
Faldon looked very self-satisfied, Valkarr thought, and he wondered…the olive skinned wench seemed to possess a lustful curiosity.
“Mr. Valkarr,” Faldon was doing a very polite, formal introduction. “This is Jisty Muulnaadin, resident maiden of the Helper Nee-Yool, of your acquaintance and employ.” Valkarr extended his hand as Faldon carried on, “Jisty, meet Ms. Nee-Yool’s Journeyman, Valkarr, of the House Bellran.” The girl tried in vain to keep from trembling. Valkarr smiled, gently kissed her hand, then stood tall, seeking to not mock a snap to attention.
“Welcome to the family, Jisty,” he said warmly, turning to see Cara exchanging refs with the vendor. Addressing Faldon and Jisty together he asked, “So, how did it go? Were there any motions to have us promoted, transferred, or executed?”
“No, on all counts,” Faldon answered. “You were wise to miss it. Nothing but hype. I suppose you’d be pleased that there wasn’t a single hint of connection between Bellran and the prime imagers.”
“That’s all for the better,” Valkarr considered. “I’m not interested in going public with all that till we get a better market analysis.”
Cara called to Jisty, who found herself fascinated by the Journeymen. Nevertheless, the supplicant applicant obediently joined her mistress, ever more thrilled with the prospects of her new employ. The womenkind were talking contract ethics.
Faldon was giving a review, “All in all, though, the battle came off looking pretty good.” Pausing, he allowed a look nearing that of pride, “There was a great look at my ‘self-destruct,’ and a shot of the palace bath chamber going up…I think you ought to send the Holybody a copy of that!”
Valkarr smiled, Faldon was beaming, “I’m serious! Let her look at that, and encaption something like, ‘If you thought your ride with me was boring, look at what you missed…’”
Loud; from a great distance, yet interrupting with precision pace, it was a rowdy yell: “Well, look at what we didn’t miss.” A large man, without mark of class, commanded attention as he walked toward the two Journeymen, his vehemence aimed directly at Valkarr.
The score of revelers closest to the fountain backed away, and Faldon stepped aside in combat readiness. Valkarr casually modified his stance to signify a standing of ground, but his demeanor was strictly noncombative.
From nowhere to twenty paces, to ten, to five, the big man bulled through the fearfully parting. The man was not alone. There were two, near the same size, with him. At twice arm’s length they stopped. Cara climbed onto and over the buffet table, jumping to land flanking Valkarr’s left, just as Faldon was positioned to his right.
The aggressor looked at those who stood to aid his target and scowled as he continued to address Valkarr, “I’m surprised you had the courage to not miss this gathering, Mr. Listra, or did you feel we had to have your divine blessings tonight?”
Valkarr had never seen the man, and had no idea what was going on. He harbored a faint hope that this was a practical joke of some kind. Not knowing, and not fearing, he sensed time for response, and meted it out:
“I believe you have mistaken me for some other deity, sir; but that’s understandable, seeing as how you so resemble Karaoolian guard-stock.”
There were hoots from the crowd at this recovery, and the big man bristled, but Valkarr had his phrasing, and finished, “I’m sorry, but we have no need of male pleasure-givers here. I have met the High Priestess, but a recommendation from me wouldn’t do you any good. Her opinion, as you probably know, and likely agree, is that I’m just no fun.”
Valkarr’s cavalier spirit helped lessen tensions of some watching, but brute belligerence persisted. Intent on picking a fight, the large one bellowed, “Yeah,” scoffing, mocking Valkarr’s comeback, “you’ve met the Holybody alright! Knocked her up you did, eh?”
This was a surprise spear, a jousting ploy of Apprenticeship. The man had some training in The Craft, but his mettle denied him, and now he was reduced to subbing out.
Faldon and Cara knew the one-on-one was under control, and each concentrated solely on their juxtaposed.
Spear cast, the arsenal was unleashed. “So it makes good sense for you to save her ass, eh? How convenient! No doubt you thought it was ‘brilliant.’ After all, you got the company to solve her one nagging headache. Wasn’t that the idea? Didn’t you think anybody would notice? Sure, ‘expenses are good!’ Workers? What costs? Lives?”
This man knew nothing of these things, he was playing from a script. Faldon was picking up the same.
Valkarr dismissed the implications with a simple uncomprehending smile as he shrugged his shoulders, “Sir, if I see a damsel in distress, I’ll lend a hand. Sure. As for you, if you’re so hung-up on that rockrat lot, why don’t you apply to be one of her guards? You look the type, and where the eunuch bit is concerned, don’t tell them. They’ll never know the difference.”
Valkarr was done chatting. Faldon and Cara watched his back as he turned slowly to the bar. The Irsadite hostess smiled nervously as she tore open a plimp pouch and began pouring flakes into the dispenser.
But there were more than just these three in the assault. From beyond the immediate spectators someone shouted, “Arbitrageur!”
A small baton whistled as it flew by Valkarr from his left, striking a glancing blow to Cara’s right shoulder. She wasn’t even knocked off balance. The big man and his left-flank comrade moved on Faldon. They were joined by another, who Valkarr suspected of having made the throw.
Valkarr knew the other Journeyman would do fine, and turned his attention to Cara, who was also under a threefold attack.
Before he could step, another hurled object, this one a knife, sank deep into the middle of Valkarr’s back.
The rending penetration was that of poisoned metal.
Security, already called, had just arrived. He saw that—and somehow it made succumbing easier. There was no choice.
The action of the ointment was swift. He managed to stay upright when first he hit his knees, but that was the last of his control. It wasn’t the pain that beat him, but all color was ebbing fast from his view, and he was soon overwhelmed by a conquering total darkness.
<- Chapter 11
