next in line to become a Prince of the realm. Of course, he was careful to avoid any sources that were not public. Helson Rhoedraegon was well known for his guile and Benford had no doubt that the man would be alerted to any attempts to covertly gain knowledge of himself or his plans. It was one of the traits that first attracted Benford to him as a possible ally. So far he found nothing new that interested him, and this made him very nervous.
After all, he had maneuvered a command for the young lord, captaincy of the frigate Paladin soon to commence trials prior to joining the fleet under Rear Admiral Tan, another of his allies and unwitting servant. It was in his best interest to find all that he could about the young Rhoedraegon to insure his cooperation.
He inhaled, taking in the dry crisp air of his office, laced with a scent slightly reminiscent of a forest in what used to be called Maine. It took him back to his childhood when he was forced to accompany his father, the then Prince of the house of Benford, who enjoyed spending time along the cold, wind-swept coast of that area. He’d hated those times as he’d hated his father and his soft, conciliatory ways. Even as a child he had understood the necessity of ruling the Empire with an iron hand, projecting power to the farthest corners of what now extended out over nineteen star systems and more than twenty worlds. It was the reason he maneuvered, the reason he gathered to himself those he could and who could control others. He needed Helson Rhoedraegon and he needed Helson’s commander, Rear Admiral Tan. They were key players in the game and the last think he needed was an inability to predict their behavior.
As if on cue, his comm announced the arrival of Rear Admiral Tan in his outer office and was ushered in.
Tan was an anomaly among the general officers of the fleet, a commoner who had worked his way up through the ranks to his present lofty position and it was testimony to both his ability and his tenacity. He was what the rank and file referred to as a Mustang, a term whose origins were lost in the mists of time but which originally defined a wild horse, difficult to train and physically powerful. Somehow the reference seemed to fit this man. In all of the officer’s corps of the Empire, no more than fifty mustang officers, and Tan was the most successful of them all.
“You sent for me, My Prince?” he said when he reached Benford’s desk. He stood at attention, exactly eighteen inches from the desk, his eyes fixed on some imaginary spot on the skyline peering in at them through the transparent wall behind the noble.
“Relax, my dear Tan. We have issues to discuss.”
Tan looked down at Benford but remained stiff. “May I sit?”
“Please do, Admiral, and please loosen up a bit. A man who conspires from a position of attention makes me nervous.”
Tan looked uncomfortable but allowed himself to relax visibly as he sat in one of the two chairs facing the desk. “Conspire, My Lord?”
“It’s about Rhoedraegon.”
“Ah,” Tan said, allowing himself a stiff smile.
“Yes. Exactly. He’s about to take command of the Paladin. Are you going to be ready for him?”
Tan thought momentarily. He could never take any of Benford’s questions lightly. “I believe we can keep him in the dark as to our true intentions.”
“Don’t underestimate him, Admiral. He’s somewhat of an enigma. That man’s conniving and quite capable of creating strategies ‘on the fly’ so to speak. He’s also ambitious, as ambitious as you or I. “
“I may need to take precautions then.”
“Forewarned is forearmed, you know.”
“Hmm,” the admiral said, thinking. “I believe I can handle the situation. Is there anything else?”
“Just a reminder that we need to create an incident and it needs to happen while the Parliament is in session. It’s the only way to insure our plans won’t fall victim to the more rational voices that will surely council caution.”
Tan nodded. “It will be done.”
He rose without another word and turned to the door. Just before he left, he turned and offered Benford a quick bow.
When Tan had left, he engaged the comm and spoke five incomprehensible words.
At about the time Benford was speaking to Admiral Tan, Zoe Champion was busily carrying out her current commission, walking along one of the main streets near the center of the Bay Area Complex. In reality, it would be more truthful to say that she was gliding rather than walking so smoothly did she move, weaving her way through the busy streets, dodging pedestrians and bots as she maintained an almost exact fifteen yards distance from the gentleman in the royal blue cape that she followed. Her movements seemed incongruous, considering her thick waist and long shapeless dress with a bright floral pattern and her heavy thick soled shoes. To look at her one would never guess that she was capable of such grace. Even her bushy unkempt mousy brown hair gave her the appearance of uncouth peasantry.
Zoe was a patient woman, well schooled in her craft and adept at remaining unseen while keeping visual surveillance on whomever her commission involved. She could feel the beginning of an adrenaline rush, anticipating her next move. She looked for a suitable place to act and was pleased to see her target turn into a small pleasure shop near one of the government buildings. It would be perfect. She quickened her pace and entered the lobby in time to see him disappear into a private room to the left. When the hostess noticed her she smiled back sweetly.
“I’m sorry, but wasn’t that Harold Shelling that just came through? I was told to meet him here, but he didn’t tell me where he would be.”
The attendant eyed her coldly, brushing a lock of unfashionably long black hair to one side and back over her shoulder. Zoe did her best to hide her disgust at the young woman’s appearance, her shining oiled hair long on the right side and short on the left, a very passé style and not well executed in any case. Oil stains dotted her shapeless teal kimono, also very much out of style. She reminded herself to add her to her commission list as a public service if nothing else.
“You say he’s expecting you, citizen?”
“He is,” she said, diverting her eyes and blushing convincingly.
“Second door on the left. Should I announce you?”
“Thank you so much, but no. I’d rather surprise him.”
She crossed demurely to the door of Shelly’s private room and opened it without knocking. Inside, Harold Shelly, a short corpulent man of fifty with pock marked face and prominent, almost tubular lips, looked up in surprise and slowly scanned her up and down. He smiled without much enthusiasm as he shifted on the pillows and repositioned himself to one side of the dosing station. Absently he inhaled the thick white smoke that the post was emitting and said, “Hello. And who might you be?”
Zoe stepped in and closed the door.
“You are, Harold Shelly, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that would be me.”
“I am here at the behest of Carlos Alarcon, whom you may remember you owe a great deal of money.”
In the next instant, his body slumped to the floor, his head raggedly severed so quickly that the human eye could not have possibly followed the move. Zoe stood with her back to the door, looking at
